


Bites

by foxxed



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxxed/pseuds/foxxed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel is a Chef de Cuisine with a tongue as sharp as his knife. But when the restaurant across the street finally opens, Kurt is confronted with an old culinary school rival - the always smiling and opera-singing Italian Chef Blaine Anderson and things are about to heat up faster than the average stove.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bites

**1\. L'Apéritif**

* * *

**If Only All Stars Could Shine This Bright – ******

_Culinary Review 'La Vedette' (New York City, NY, West 46_ _th_ _Street), Classical French_  
Executive Chef; Kurt Hummel (28, origin Ohio), Restaurant Manager: Rachel Berry (29)  
by: Andrew Holst

* * *

_As an acclaimed food critic I find myself in sometimes little pearls of exquisite finery, all hidden from the main tourist eye and filled with only true New Yorkians with taste buds that can handle little bites of luxury._

_I am lucky to tell you that I have found another secret guarded from the mass – French Restaurant La Vedette (star or spotlight), opened past May and is singled out on a corner in the prestigious West 46_ _th_ _Street, close to 'Restaurant Row'._

_The ambiance is a true knock-out and I was drifting off to an almost French brasserie like place, until I was viciously popped out of the dream when restaurant manager Rachel Berry lost her control over some of the service girls and practically yelled the entire restaurant together. It may confuse you why I am still utterly enthusiastic over this place, and if anyone can reveal what days Miss Berry isn't present – please, let me know first._

_No, I was about to write some ugly words about the restaurant and leave, until the food came. The blonde waitress that had to hear the yelling from her supervisor from less than three inches distance still managed to place my appetizer on the table, wishing me to enjoy my food. And I did._

_Many say it was supposed to be Miss Berry to be the so claimed star of the restaurant but they could not be more wrong – the true star was the delicious '_ Tartelette aux Artichauts' _(artichoke tartlet) I was served. And the man that put this petit étoile into the spotlight? Chef Kurt Hummel, 28 and former pupil of the famous French Chef Jacque Fournier._

_You see, Chef Hummel rarely comes out of his domain – the kitchen – but every time a dish leaves through the doors, we can hear the voice of a man that owns this restaurant more than Miss Berry ever will. I had the pleasure of meeting his sous-chef, Miss Quinn Fabray, and she was very fond of her mentor. I saw myself wondering why Chef Hummel hadn't started a restaurant of his own, but according to Miss Fabray he hadn't truly found his 'mojo' yet. He wants to cook, create little pieces of heaven and bring pleasure to his costumers._

_And even though I can speak further of the delicious food I have tasted that very night, I am afraid I feel like I only tease you and might even undersell what I have experienced. Whereas there are no words of how the true spotlight shines from the kitchen and Chef Kurt Hummel shines the brightest._

* * *

"…  _of how the true stars shines from the kitchen and Chef Kurt Hummel shines the brightest_." Quinn shut the magazine and held it against her chest. "Well, someone has a crush on you."

A snort came from the corner in the kitchen where Kurt was lining up several ingredients.

"He has a crush on my food. As he should." He ducked underneath the sideboard to retrieve his chopping block. The restaurant's staff was arriving soon and he needed to present his menu so his main waitress Brittany could memorize it – which was quite the task for her.

"Kurt, I'm serious," Quinn, his sous-chef and moral sanity in his kitchen, walked toward him with the magazine still in her hand, "All you have to do is call the editor and –" she opened _Dining New York_  again to find the critic's name, "Andrew  _Holst_  will throw himself at your feet."

"All he wants is my food." But not even Kurt could stop the little grin from coming. "You don't even know if he's gay –"

"I met him. Kurt!" She smacked him with the now rolled-up magazine. "You weren't even listening to what I was saying!"

"All I needed to hear were the words 'little pieces of heaven' and 'delicious'." Kurt straightened his back and contemplated between knives. "Besides, food critics come undercover, you talk to many customers –"

"Because you refuse to show your face."

"- and all customers say the same. Any guy could have been this – this Andrew."

"Yes, especially that guy that introduced himself  _as_  Andrew and requested to speak with you." Quinn rolled her eyes. When was Kurt ever going to accept that even chefs could have a love life?

Kurt pursed his lips in a way only he could before yanking out one of the vegetable knives and started to viciously chop up celery for his mirepoix. "Is Santana on her way yet? I need her to sample options for dessert."

And gone was the amiable Kurt Hummel and in came Chef Hummel, real star of La Vedette and rising champion in French cuisine. Every time Quinn tried to get him to step out of the kitchen and live a little, he turned professional and demanding.

"I will check her at once, chef," she said, biting her tongue against saying something less obedient. He was still his boss – no matter what Rachel said about being the Queen Bee – Kurt was the one giving orders. And after the trainwreck food runner called Chandler, everybody knew that they needed to stay off his blacklist. Chandler had made no secret of his admiration for Kurt and compliments about things other than his food was a way to subtly ask for a neck shot. He was fired within a week, and Rachel had muffled it off as disagreements in his contracts.

No, it was safe to say Kurt Hummel didn't do personal, romantic affairs. His life was food, and food alone.

They worked in silence for a little while, Quinn finishing off the entrée and Kurt perfecting it. Their routine was daily and sacred. The quiet before the storm, because as soon as the rest of the kitchen and restaurant staff were barging through the restaurant's doors there was no way of talking to Kurt about other affairs than the menu.

Quinn walked off to the computer to print the first hardcopy of tonight's menu, reading it over to see if there weren't any mistakes before handing it over to Kurt. She watched his eyes glide over the words, gritting his teeth and shaking his head. There were days she cursed his nitpicking and controlling ways – like today – but other days it saved the night, like that one night where the deliverance messed up their orders. She would never forget how Kurt made the driver cry  _and_  got the right order for free.

"Looks good." he finally said and handed it back.

Roaring noises of a motorcycle came through the split of the back door and a minute later a lean Hispanic woman burst into the kitchen. She threw her helmet on her usual spot, shrugging off her leather jacket and tossed her bag along with it.

"I love it how the kitchen gets hotter when I arrive." she smirked.

"Afternoon, Santana." Kurt gave her one glare and the smile vanished.

"Good afternoon, chef." She exchanged looks with Quinn that spoke more than words: it was one of those nights again. Santana didn't know what Quinn had said to provoke it, but she hoped it would pass before they were serving desserts.

Santana was La Vedette's pâtissier, which meant she was in charge of everything baked, frozen and sweet. And even though she wasn't the number one fan of French cuisine, the fact she met her girlfriend on her first night of work was more than enough to step over that barrier.

"Go change," Kurt ordered, "I need those crème brulee samples _, tout suite_."

"Yes, chef."

Kurt turned back to the dishes he created for the tasting, noticing something that might trigger an angry look from Rachel, but decided he would handle with her later. She might be reigning the restaurant – mainly the customers – but Kurt was King of the Kitchen, this was his kingdom and nobody would ever tell him how to run it.

Not even his sous-chef and chef de partie slash pâtissier – who were conspiring in the far corner of the kitchen, close to the reserved room for his cooks when they were on their breaks. Santana didn't like driving her motorcycle in uniform, so he allowed her to get dressed before they started. He loved his female coworkers and was happy his kitchen was mostly filled by women. They thought and cooked in a way Kurt needed to keep the balance, plus it did well for restaurant reviews.

"When you two are done planning out my love life, would you please come out and get a move on?" he shouted with his authoritative voice. Both came out, Santana fully dressed and tightening her buttons, and did not even blink with guilt – as if he could make them. "Good. We have forty five minutes, let's get this rundown done –  _allez!"_

**xXx**

The staff gathering was actually the only time Kurt was up front in the restaurant, relaxing against the wall and hidden in the corner of the booth.

His eyes weren't even focused on the person talking, but everybody knew he was still paying close attention.

"- served with a sauce béarnaess –"

"Béarnaise –" he corrected, "with a z-tone."

He didn't take his eyes off the outside road and knew Brittany nodded, repeating the correct pronunciation immediately and continued the menu. A side-eyed glance was tossed his way but he didn't let it affect him – he knew Rachel wanted to talk to him about the food they were serving tonight and until then he remained calm, staring outside to watch the workmen outside finish the new restaurant across the street.

For weeks he had been trying to figure out who was going to compete with La Vedette, but the construction workers didn't even tell him whether it was a fastfood restaurant or high end quality.

All he knew was that it trouble.

He smiled to himself when the service staff let out a collective 'hmm' after tasting the options. It was necessary they knew what they were serving, so they could explain it to their customers into the smallest detail.

"Kurt!" Sugar, one of the other food runners, squealed. "That article in  _Dining New York_  was really amazing."

"Totally." Brittany agreed and Kurt was surprised they had even taken trouble of reading the review.

"Yes, well," Rachel interrupted, smashing down her menu, "that guy was obviously seeing things because I never yell at my staff –"

"U-hu." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I was just –"

"PMS'ing?" Santana suggested and Rachel snapped her mouth shut.

"Yes," Kurt turned completely back to the table, "it was an overall lovely review. Let's finish up, where's the new garbage boy?"

At the same moment the front doors swung open and a big built young man stepped inside. He had a mohawk, and looked like he didn't dine much in restaurants like La Vedette.

"That's no boy." Quinn muttered and the man spotted them, walking toward them in a strange macho step that made Kurt roll his eyes.

"What's up."

"Are you my new garbage boy?" Kurt asked immediately before Rachel could intervene.

"Yup. Name's Puck." He threw a wink at Sugar, who started to swoon.

"None of that here." Kurt snapped in such a way Puck straightened his back like he was in the military. "You're my new garbage boy, have you read the job description?"

"Kurt –" Rachel tried but became quiet at the look she received.

"You will only be in the kitchen, and the kitchen  _alone_." Kurt stood up to talk more clearly to him. "You do not go into the restaurant, under any circumstance – you will  _not_ –" he slapped Puck's hand that was reaching for the leftover sample on the table, "eat my food unless you're allowed to. Tonight you'll work with our dishwasher Brett –" he cocked his head to the small boy that was still licking the spoon of his crème brulée with passion, "and help him where needed, am I clear?"

Puck swallowed so loud it had to be heard outside and even though Kurt was shorter than him, his massive presence was enough to feel small.

"Am I clear?" Kurt repeated.

"Y-yes, sir." He nodded jerkily and Kurt squinted, eyeing him up and down.

"It's chef." And he slammed a towel that was lying on the table against Puck's chest. "Kitchen crew, start preparing!" Chairs scraped back over the floor and the table shook with the sudden movement as everybody started to hurry to their places. "That means you too." he said to Puck and he had never seen someone scurry back to follow everyone that quickly.

"Stop making new staff members almost cry." Quinn said softly into his ear and Kurt shrugged.

"They need to know whose kitchen it is, and I know his type. People like him used to throw me in dumpsters. He'll adapt quick enough." he whispered back and intended to go to the kitchen too until –

"Kurt!" Rachel screeched, and the remaining restaurant staff stayed in their seats to watch the show.

Quinn raised an eyebrow, asking silently if she could start preparing and he nodded before she left. He braced himself and turned swiftly around to face hell in a kitten sweater.

She was standing there with her hands in her sides, trying to be the boss she was meaning to be but failing miserably.

"Kurt," she said again, "you're not in charge of hiring people –"

"Yes I am when I am in need of a garbage boy." he countered.

" _Fine_ , but next time come to me first then or must I remind you  _I_  am the one writing paychecks?"

Kurt shrugged. "It's the same amount of money except instead of Jacob you write down Puck." He wiggled his fingers to state the obvious.

"That's not what I meant, Kurt."

He couldn't stop the flinch at hearing his name being said so often. He was used on being Chef or Chef Hummel at his domain, but Rachel stood above his status as much as he hated it, only because she was the one that hired him.

Rachel threw back her long brown hair and hid a secret smile at shutting her chef up.

"Anyway, what I wanted to discuss with you." she said. "Why aren't there any vegan options for tonight's menu?"

Kurt threw his head back, praying at whatever was listening because he had been expecting this confrontation. "Because nobody has ordered the vegan option in  _seven weeks_." He stared back at her and crossed his arms. "It's a waste of food."

"It's narrowing our menu." said Rachel.

"Rachel, the last and only person ordering the vegan option was  _you_  when you took my stepbrother out on a date here."

"Yes, well, I only trust my own restaurant's food."

"Also known as my food, my kitchen and  _my_  menu." he spat. "If you wanted a vegan restaurant, you should have started one and hired a vegan chef." Rachel opened her mouth before closing again, biting her lip in defeat. She knew very well a vegan-only restaurant on Restaurant Row would crash and burn on opening night. "That's what I thought, no disrespect to vegans, but I need to keep track on my deliverance, when there is need for a vegan dish or when you have a date again – you just let me know." End of discussion, he almost added.

The service crew was still gawking open-mouthed and Kurt looked past Rachel's shoulder, cocking an eyebrow at them.

"I am still your boss." Rachel said quietly.

"Then be one, send me to my kitchen and let me do my job." Kurt pursed his lips to prevent himself from smiling. He was playing with fire and he knew it, but if it wasn't dangerous it wasn't fun to do. "Can I go now?"

"Y-yes!" Rachel woke from her small trance.

"Good." He turned around, straightened his whites and marched to his kitchen. The name of the restaurant represented the spotlight and it was definitely showtime.

**xXx**

Starting at five, nobody was allowed to speak to Kurt directly in the kitchen. If they needed anything to know they needed to ask Quinn, and only she was allowed to ask Kurt if she didn't know the answer.

Music was forbidden, as much as some of the cooks loved to sing while preparing – Kurt wanted to hear nothing else but orders and sizzles. Nobody questioned these orders, apart from new employees but when they asked a colleague why, they were told to just wait until the appetizers were starting to run.

Watching Kurt cook and serve should be equal to watching a Broadway show. He moved almost gracefully, perfecting each and every plate that would leave the kitchen and placed them himself on the service desks – either the hot or the cold one.

Occasionally he yelled for something, making sure everybody was still alert for his orders and continued to inspect the garnish.

"You were born to do this." Quinn had said after their first night together, and Kurt had given her a rare smile. Hearing praise like that was like getting a standing ovation and if there was something Kurt loved, it was the sound of applause.

Ever since he was young he knew for certain he would end up in a kitchen, preferably in his own restaurant, and he would be cooking, tasting and creating. His mother, wherever her soul may be, always supported him on achieving what he wanted. And after weeks of spoiling his dad with cupcakes, soufflés and a cake (which he swore on that his mother did  _not_ help him), Burt agreed that Kurt could use the actual oven, with parental guidance, instead of his easy bake oven – because his 'masterpieces' needed more care than that.

"Can we get those main courses coming?" he shouted, grabbing the printed orders from the buzzing printer. In the back of the kitchen something clattered on the floor and Kurt straightened his back. As a chef it was his duty to see and hear  _everything,_  all to keep sure his kitchen was one well oiled machine. "What's going on there?" He moved to one of the furnaces, trying to see the back doors. "Puck? What are you doing?" he yelled so hard it made a few of his cooks flinch.

Puck froze, staring down at the mop and bucket he dropped. "Nothing!"

"Nothing,  _chef_." Kurt called. "And exactly, you're doing nothing, while I need you to  _something_."

Quickly Puck scrambled up the bucket and mop before disappearing out of his sight again.

"He'll learn." Quinn assured, side eyeing him, "I still don't understand why you're being so harsh on new people."

Kurt huffed, walking to the furnace where one of his cooks, Sam Evans, was screwing up the caramelized onions for the main course. Without even a warning Kurt grabbed the pan and threw the content in the garbage. Sam was about to say something, but wisely shut his big-lipped mouth.

"Go to the pantry, get new ones, start over." Kurt ordered, taking out a new pan to cook his mushrooms.

"Yes, chef." Sam couldn't get away quick enough.

"I thought I told you. I am harsh, because they need to know who is in charge." he muttered to Quinn while heating the pan up to the highest stand. Sweat droplets were already forming on his forehead, but nights that passed without sweat were considered unsuccessful. "If you don't – they'll walk right over you." He gave her a small smirk before melting glorious butter in the pan. "Get me a Merlot." he ordered to the random cook passing him. "And Rémy Martin brandy."

"Yes, chef."

"Going to set the thing on fire?" Quinn asked with an cocked eyebrow and rolled her eyes when Kurt started to grin almost manically.

"It's all about little pleasures, Fabray."

"But what about big pleasures?" she started to convince him again.

"My personal business is very much personal, thank you very much." He looked around his kitchen. "Not something I would like to discuss amongst our colleagues."

"Okay, fine." She crossed her arms. "Then go out with me and Santana and we'll talk about it with just the three of us."

"Not now, Fabray."

"Fine _, chef_."

Blindly he took over the Merlot and brandy and placed them on an empty spot, not really caring about the order.

The doors to the restaurant swung open and Rachel toddled inside on her pesky little heels, arms swaying determined.

"Kurt!" she shrieked. Kurt let out a sigh and pretended not to hear her, continuing stirring while pouring brandy over the mushrooms. "Kurt." she said again, except this time much closer and Kurt actually jumped up at seeing her over the kitchen lines.

"Rachel!" he said with wide eyes. "You're not allowed across the barriers, how many times do I have to tell you this?"

"Oh, schmuck, you keep on telling it's dangerous and –" Kurt subtly rotated his pan so the fire licked the content and the brandy's alcohol lid up. With a scream Rachel backed away, holding her hand against her heart to calm down. "A warning!"

"I thought 'stay behind the barriers' was warning enough?" Kurt said with a smile playing on his lips, shaking the pan some more so the flames fired up. With her jaw tensing she stepped back to create distance between her and the furnaces. He almost muttered 'good girl', but decided he had been teasing his boss long enough tonight. "What do you want? Aren't you supposed to prove to everyone in the restaurant you don't yell at your staff?"

"Everything is going just fine."

"Good! Now tell me why you're hear wasting both of our times then?" He kept his eyes on Sam retrying his onions, nodding approvingly.

"There are two gentlemen outside and –"

"And they better be enjoying my food and you better not be annoying them?" he filled in for her, making her turn even redder in anger.

"Well, yes – I mean no –"

"They are not enjoying my food?" He turned back to her. His eyes were practically shooting fire just like his flambé mushrooms.

"I mean, yes they are enjoying your food and no, I am not annoying them."

"Just yes would have been sufficient, thanks." Plates filled with main courses gathered up on the prepare desks and Kurt eyed them all to see if they were identical. Not even a pea was allowed to be out of place, and after careful inspection Kurt started to finish them by placing the final details.

"What I'm trying to say, Kurt." Rachel said, stepping closer to the counter and didn't even have to duck to see Kurt – that's how small she was. "There are two gentlemen outside, booth three, and they want to compliment you."

Kurt almost shot out with spreading the sauce and stared up. "I don't do customer one on one."

"They just want to compliment you! You love compliments."

"Yes, in magazines, in the culinary reviews." With stars and culinary terms, by people who actually know what they're talking about. He pursed his lips.

"They seem very professional and influential, they could be writing for a magazine!" she said, stamping on the floor with her heels.

"Everybody could be writing for a magazine." he clarified. "And all magazines know –" he turned around to the review that was hanging between the orders to find the sentence he was looking for, " _Chef Hummel rarely comes out of his domain_  – there you go."

"Please, Kurt, just these men. Just once."

"No." Kurt said sturdily. "Going out there means leaving my kitchen, leaving my kitchen means that this kitchen is unsupervised –"

"Quinn can handle it perfectly!"

"I am sure she can but –" Again in the back of the kitchen someone dropped something. "Puck! You better clean that up before I see it," he yelled over his shoulder and turned back to Rachel. "See, I am needed here."

"Main courses are almost going out and then Santana does the desserts, you can leave for a minute!"

"Let them taste the main course first, if they still wish to compliment me I'll take it in consideration." Kurt tried to draw attention from Quinn. "And otherwise Quinn can go, you said two men after all. I doubt they'll be interested in me."

"No, Kurt, they specifically for you and they really want to talk to you. One of them seems like some big hotshot and the other one didn't speak much, but seriously. He ordered the wines on name and year. And they matched perfectly with the entrée and appetizer."

"He could have checked the menu." Kurt blinked vividly. It always said which wines went best with what.

"On year?" Rachel had that knowingly look on her face, a look Kurt hated with the fire of a thousand stoves.

"He could have been bluffing."

"Oh, come on!" She started to tap on the floor with her shoe. "After main course I will ask them again, and if they say yes you come out, deal?"

Kurt was already making up excuses why he wouldn't be able to come out to accept their so called compliments, and regretfully nodded.

"Good! We need people like them to come more often. The quiet one is really cute by the way." She leaned over conspiringly.

"Not you too." he grumbled – he was perfectly capable of making his own choices regarding his personal life.

"What? You mean – for you?" Rachel snorted, she actually snorted. "I meant for me."

"You're dating my stepbrother." he said as a-matter-of-factly, and Rachel waved his statement away.

"See you after the main course." She skipped away through the doors and composed herself again before she was seen by the dining customers.

"Why is she acting like she beat you?" Quinn asked in a hushed voice.

"She wishes." Kurt muttered back, but had a weird feeling in his stomach he wasn't getting away this time.

**xXx**

Soon all the main courses were gone and Santana and her team were plating up desserts.

"Looking good." Kurt said, eyeing the process carefully.

"Thank you, chef."

He let it all play out they way they did every night, and decided it was time he ate something real instead of the bites and tastes he had to eat throughout the night. The moment he was about to turn around to give the orders to Quinn, the doors swayed open again and Rachel stepped inside with a scary smile on her face.

"Kurt!" she squealed. "They still want to see you –"

"Who?" he asked confused.

"The two gentlemen! They enjoyed their main courses."

"As expected."

"And I promised them you would accept their compliments in person." Rachel's smile was far from faltering, even with the glare Kurt was shooting her. She promised them he would come in person, there was no way he could break that – it would ruin their reputation. "And customer is king." she said herself, crossing her arms.

"You can't promise things like that."

"But I did because we had a deal." She was practically doing a victory dance and the entire kitchen had turned silent – something very rare. "So, chef Hummel, you go out there and talk to them. Booth three."

Escapes and excuses were flooding his mind, but all of them were only harming the reputation more and more.

"You will regret this." Kurt said, untying his apron to appear completely spotless.

"Leave your knives here." Rachel warned.

"I give them one minute, nothing more, Fabray! Overtake,  _allez!_  And make me some of that crème de champignons, will you. I haven't eaten yet."

Quinn suddenly appeared to his side, facing Rachel. "Are you sure you want him to go now?" she asked subtly. "He's crabby when hasn't eaten." He stared at her like she was an angel, maybe he would go out with them anyway.

"Yes now," Rachel said, "before they leave. They just finished their main course and didn't seem very dessert-y people."

"I take offence in that." Santana stood on his other side, flamer in her hand where she was caramelizing the sugar for the crème brulee with.

"Maybe chef Hummel can convince them to take dessert." Rachel said, waggling her eyebrows and Kurt finally realized how cornered he really was.

"One minute." he said darkly, holding up one finger.

Rachel stepped back, watching him step over the lines and straighten his back before he pushed the doors open. He knew the entire kitchen was watching him, this was a first for them too, and he confidently walked into the restaurant area.

 _Booth three, booth three_ , he thought calmly and of course booth three was near the front. He felt everybody staring at him, mostly because his white uniform drew attention and his stroll looked like he was on a warpath.

The booth was already coming in his eyesight and the man facing the kitchen already smiled at him. He was around Kurt's age, fairly handsome if you were into meerkats, and had a look in his eyes Kurt didn't trust a bit. This was why he didn't leave his haven of the kitchen - who knew what kind of rats would be up front?

"Chef Hummel." Meerkat greeted and Kurt promptly ignored the other man, not even glancing at him.

"Good evening." Kurt said with a practiced voice. "I understood you wanted to compliment me."

Meerkat's eyebrows rose. "That's nice and direct."

"I have a kitchen to run." Maybe he was crabby when he was hungry? He should ask Quinn more about this.

"Of course, of course." he held up his hands in surrender. "I just wanted to send my compliments to the chef, you, for this lovely menu."

"Compliment accepted, thank you." Kurt said so fast it was barely understandable.

"Although –" a different voice said. A voice that sent shivers down his spine, raising the hairs in his neck and it sounded so sensual and sweet, just like honey. He hadn't heard that voice in years. His head turned so fast it cracked and stared wide eyed at the other man in the booth. He was hidden in the farthest corner, folding a napkin and looked up at him. The eyes were still the same – hazel with a warm glowing iris and his lips were still moving as he spoke. "And of course, a little bit too much butter, but I'm used to that with you." His lips stayed pursed at the 'you' tone, eyes twinkling playfully.

No. Way.

"Hey Kurt." he said with a wink – a  _wink_. How dared he? "Long time no see."

Blaine Anderson, that was his name, and God, Kurt hated him. He remained silent, standing like a statue in front of the booth and Meerkat was still watching it, completely amused.

"How was France?" Blaine asked, wanting to get some kind of answer out of Kurt.

"Magnificent." he managed to say, blood coiling underneath his skin – where was his knife? He needed to place it in the table, with force.

"I bet it was." Blaine smiled and Kurt almost went weak at the breathtaking and face-splitting grin. It had been seven years since he saw him, the week before he left for France for his internship and Blaine was going to do whatever he wanted to do.

"Can I tempt you two for a dessert?" Kurt offered, finding his cool again, but the heat bubbling in his body was ready to burst. "We're serving excellent crème brulee, I might even serve it with some rat poison –"

"KURT!" Rachel, who had been eavesdropping the whole thing, shrieked.

"We'll pass." Meerkat snickered, appreciating the humor of it. Clearly he knew about Kurt and Blaine's past.

"Kurt!"

"Excuse me then, the manager is calling me." He smiled insincerely to both of them, eyes lingering longer on Blaine than he intended to, but somehow they still managed to keep him captivated.

"See you around, Kurt." Blaine said and gave him a crooked grin.

Without even replying Kurt turned around, fists clenching and having the need to chop something brutally. Yes, knives, chopping, good.

Rachel passed him with a judging glare that was so terrifying he almost felt the words 'you're fired' being tattooed on his back, but he didn't care. Three years of culinary school he had been walked over by one Blaine Anderson and when he finally had the chance to leave for France, mister perfect almost took it away from him.

He hated him,  _hated him_  and he told him he would see him around? Not in a million years.

Kurt threw the doors to the kitchen open, feeling them sway shut behind him again and it was then when he started to breathe again.

* * *

**2\. L'Entrée**

Kurt hadn't moved away from the doors yet, keeping the right one occupied as all the desserts went through the left one. Nobody dared to ask him to go away or what was going on – not even Quinn or Santana.

He tried to stay as invisible as possible, only sneaking through the round window with one eye and watched Blaine and his friend (date? boyfriend?) getting ready to leave. Rachel was still mending his disaster and Meerkat kept on gesturing it was alright, eyeing Blaine constantly to make him say something too. Except Blaine was smirking to himself, shrugging on his coat – a dark, expensive coat that made Kurt jealous.

Blaine obviously had come to La Vedette to see him, to torment him and Kurt had taken the bait, snapping back into his former culinary institute -self almost instantly.

"I hate you so much," he muttered to the door, mentally trying to shoo them away.

Rachel seemed defeated, shaking Meerkat's hand in apology and tried to gain Blaine's attention – hadn't she said something about the quiet one being cute?  _Oh God, poor girl_ , he thought. She had no idea what lay underneath those perfect dark curls, full lips and sparkling eyes. The fact he had grown even more handsome than he was back in school made Kurt hate him even more. His hair was tad longer, with his curls flowing more freely now and still,  _still_ , Kurt wondered what it would feel like to let his fingers get tangled in them.

Blaine smiled friendly at Rachel and shook her hand as well. His head turned around the restaurant, commenting on something that made Rachel blush deeply,  _ugh_ , and suddenly he glanced over at the kitchen, eyes meeting with Kurt.

Panicked he ducked, missing the smirk forming on Blaine's lips, and stayed completely still in front the door. Quickly he turned around to lean against it with his back. This night was definitely not going as he had expected too.

Quinn shot him a worried look and in the far distance he could hear tiny heels approaching the door. Kurt knew that was his cue, jumping up and zigzagged through the kitchen. He wasn't ready to face Rachel just yet and knew she only had little time to stay in the kitchen. If he would hide, he would be safe for at least another hour – or maybe until after the shift even.

He grabbed the discarded bottle of Merlot from a counter. "I'll be in the cooler," he told Quinn, still walking sturdily without stopping.

"You'll be where?" she asked confused, but Kurt had already vanished into the big silver cooler located in the back of the kitchen.

The sudden silence threw him off track for a second. It was dead silent in the cooler compared to the loud noises of the kitchen and he let the icy air lick the skin that wasn't protected by his chef's clothes. A small cloud escaped his lips as he stepped in further.

It had been six or seven years last time he hid inside a restaurant's cooler. Last time had been in France during his very first week at his internship when Chef Fournier wiped the floor with him because that is what you do with interns. Not that he hated his time there – Chef Fournier had taught him valuable lessons on being a great chef and one of those lessons was about not showing weakness.

A chef that showed weakness or vulnerability was never going to be a good one. Kurt hadn't shown weakness ever since in the kitchen, always working hard and quick, but late at night in his crappy Parisian apartment Kurt would cry himself to sleep, wondering if he would be able to take it all. Some nights he even wondered if Blaine would have sustained, and he realized that every moment he broke down he thought of Blaine.

Which was why he hadn't thought of Blaine the past six years, because when he returned from Paris – Kurt Hummel was a new man that didn't have weaknesses.

He shuffled through some shelves, trying to make up a reason why he was in the cooler and failing miserably. The bottle of wine was still in his hand, also without a concrete reason but after reading the year and determining he was going to get fired anyway – Kurt managed to open it.

Before France Kurt never truly appreciated a good wine: the stingy bite of the alcohol and the sweet or sourness of it. He and drinking weren't particularly friends, but after a very intense master class he learned food and wine were a match made in heaven. Wine was also very good to make moments like these disappear, even though he wasn't planning on becoming drunk.

With a frown on his face he clucked down the first sip, choking on the wine that accidently came into his lungs and angrily pushed the bottle away. He couldn't even enjoy some stolen wine, and yes, he blamed Blaine for that.

Blaine  _fucking_  Anderson, making him relive his entire school-career with only the use his voice.

He remembered well the first time they met. It was the first lesson on  _Classical Cuisine_ , at Columbus Culinary Institute and Kurt was planning on succeeding with flying colors.

**xXx**

It was an early class and Kurt mindlessly flipped through one of the mandatory books, not reading anything new. Most of the subjects he already knew. All he needed was a chance to do it for real and even though  _Commercial Kitchen Skills and Procedures_ and  _Purchasing and Cost Control_  were necessary, Kurt really wanted to start cooking.

What he could live without were his fellow students. According to him they didn't seem half as motivated or passionate as they should be. All they did was goof around, playing drums with the utensils when the teaching chefs were gone and mocking him on daily basis. One week in and he was already the teacher's pet, praised for his focus and perseverance, at least until someone took the spot in front of him.

Kurt didn't even glance over the book, keeping it retentively high so nobody would disturb him before class started.

"Hi," the person in front of him said, who was apparently a man and leaned forward to Kurt's desk to gain attention.

"Hello," he said coldly, not looking at him.

" _Mastering the Art of Professional Cooking,"_  the boy recited from the cover, "is it interesting?"

"It's dull, but it's mandatory," Kurt snapped.

"Oh, I guess I should buy it then…"

"Yes, it's on your booklist."

Without a warning the book was removed from his hands and the thief in question was sitting right in front of him, staring pensively at the chapter Kurt had been reading. For second Kurt was happy the boy was distracted, because  _damn_  he was handsome, dark hair and light eyes perfectly packed in a neat muscular body.  _This_  was in his  _Classical Cuisine_  class?

"Well," the boy said, "I can always borrow yours."

He looked up, eyes locking with Kurt's and for a moment they simply stared at each other.

"Give it back," Kurt said after finding his voice, but the boy shut the book with a slam and placed it on his own table, far out of Kurt's reach.

"My name's Blaine." The boy, Blaine, held out his hand for Kurt to shake and he did so, albeit a bit reservedly.

"Kurt. Can I have my book back?"

"Can I share your cooking station?" Blaine's eyes lingered over to the empty space next to Kurt, still holding his hand.

"No." If he had his way he would get private lessons, so he was already tolerating his classmates, but he was keeping his own station no matter what.

"Then say  _ciao_  to your book."

Kurt rolled his eyes, getting frustrated. "That's theft."

"I'm just borrowing it." He shrugged. "I might not give your hand back, though."

Flustered Kurt tried to take his hand back, but Blaine only tightened his grip effortlessly.

"You're the most annoying human being I have ever met."  _And the most attractive one_ , he added in his head.

"Most people call it charming." Blaine let go of his hand, scooting even closer so he could rest his elbows on Kurt's desk and rested his head on his hands. "Where are you from?"

"Why would you care?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, uhm," Blaine frowned, and Kurt was not so secretly pleased at the confusion he created, "I guess I'm just trying to get to know you? Curious?" He shrugged, hoping his adorable face would be enough, but Kurt wasn't that easy to break.

"Go be curious at your own station." He nodded to the front of the room where their teaching chef was already setting up his lesson.

"Have lunch with me?" Blaine asked and Kurt stared back at him stunned. This guy wanted to have lunch with him?

"No," he answered resolute. He wasn't going to culinary institute to make friends or have lunch with a  _thief_.

"That's too bad, I wanted to return your book if you had said yes," Blaine pouted.

"You could also just give it back," Kurt's voice grew harsher, "because it's not yours."

"I'll give it back if you'll have lunch with me."

"Class –" the teacher called order and Blaine didn't turn around. Kurt had come to the point he was sure his glares were deadly.

"Have lunch with me?" Blaine tried again.

"No." Was he for real? Kurt shook his head and mouthed once again 'no'. There was no way he would ever have lunch with him.

"May I request your attention?" the teacher said, his voice much closer than it was before and Blaine spun around with a jump, staring straight into the eyes of his teacher. Kurt bit his lip to hide a smile, but that urge vanished quickly when the teacher took the book that was lying on Blaine's desk into his hands. "Ah, I see young mister here already purchased the required literature, excellent."

"Yes, sir," Blaine answered politely and blood started to boil underneath Kurt's skin, ready to burst.

"Actually –" Kurt started.

"I've heard some people thinking it's boring, but I'm finding it interesting," Blaine interfered.

The teacher's face scrunched into a pleased expression, knocking on the book for good measure before putting it down again and returned to his own desk. Blaine turned his head only slightly, eyes locking with Kurt and somehow he understood that if he would say anything about the stolen book, Blaine would tattle that he was the one finding it boring.

"Can anyone tell me –" the teacher said brusque, requesting Blaine's attention again, "what the first step is on creating a menu?"

Kurt's hand shot up. "Seasonality." The teacher looked at him surprised, which was what Kurt was going for. If the teacher would know who he was, he would be able to succeed with even brighter flying colors.

"To be honest," Blaine then burst his bubble, "first you look at what kind of group you're going to serve, and after that you look at seasonality. Seasonal ingredients are important for a-la-carte menus, but not so much for big catering ones –"

The rest of the class started to mutter to each other and the teacher cleared his throat again.

"I'm afraid you are right," he looked from Blaine to Kurt and back to Blaine, "what is your name?"

"Blaine." he answered and Kurt could hear the amusement flowing through his melodic voice. "Blaine Anderson."

"Excellent, Mister Anderson." The teacher clapped his hands to capture everyone's attention again and started his lesson. As he was writing on the board, Blaine turned around again and gave Kurt the most self-absorbed look ever, clacking his tongue playfully. It made Kurt angry and scared at the same time, and somehow he had the feeling he just accidently signed up for a game he never anticipated on playing.

The following days Kurt had been planning on confronting Blaine fair and square. It shouldn't be that hard – he was nineteen years old, he could demand his book back without a stutter, right?

The problem was definitely not having trouble finding Blaine, because he was somehow everywhere he went. When they had class together, Blaine would be close to his station and if Kurt wanted to answer a teacher's question, Blaine would answer before he even had the chance.

And the worst part was even that Blaine was actually good at what he did in class. During their third class they had to prepare their first dish and for a full minute Kurt had just been staring at Blaine in front of him, shaking his pan like a pro. He only forced himself to continue his own cooking when Blaine looked meaningfully over his shoulder, flexing his arms like the cocky douchebag he was.

There was no doubt Blaine knew he was good looking and it ticked Kurt off even more, because every time he wanted to confront him, Blaine gave him either an ill-curing smile or a soul-crushing pout. He was absolutely impossible.

After three weeks of demanding his book back and getting the request to go out to lunch with Blaine in return, Kurt gave up.

"You haven't asked your book back in a while…" Blaine said during their pre-class set up. Kurt ignored him and continued checking his cutlery.

"I got a new one, newer edition." Kurt said, hoping he would leave him alone but of course he didn't.

"You could have just gone out to lunch with me, you know."

"And I remember saying no every single time, so please, let it be." He looked up to find Blaine looking hurt before it turned back into arrogant.

"Well, maybe now I can ask you out to dinner?"

With a clang Kurt slammed down his chopping knife, grabbing the edge of the counter too firmly so his knuckles turned white. "Why don't you just give up?"

"Just like you did with your book? I was expecting more from you." Blaine crossed his arms. "I just want to try out this new Italian place downtown." Kurt wasn't quick enough to stop himself from making a gagging noise. "You… don't like… Italian?"

"Not really." Kurt answered much softer, somehow seeing Blaine crushed made him feel guilty.

"You wound me." Blaine placed his hand on his heart. "Considering you're not letting me tell you this on a date, I'll tell you now that my long life dream is to start an Italian restaurant."

Kurt froze for a second. So he hadn't been imagining things that Blaine didn't just want a friendly lunch or dinner, but wanted an actual date. Was he insane?

"Lovely, are you going to deliver your pizzas by car yourself?" Kurt praised his returned snark.

"If you're the one ordering, I might," Blaine said quickly.

"Good, now I know I'll never order Italian food anywhere. Ever." He managed to return to his preparation, reading through the recipe again. Blaine, however, didn't return back to his station like Kurt hoped.

"Why are you so bitter?" he asked quietly, finger trailing over the silver counter.

"Why are you still bothering me?" Kurt looked up intensely. "You already annoy me enough during class, why want to expand that to outside the classroom?"

Blaine's face turned amused. "So it does annoy you that I'm better than you."

"I didn't say that. I think your entire presence is annoying enough."

"You totally hate it that I'm better at classical cuisine than you. You're not used to that, are you? Being second." Blaine was completely intrigued, leaning over even closer. "You can't stand it that I know all the answers, that I know you took the wrong knives for today's dish." Kurt started to blush furiously, looking down to find indeed the wrong knives. "There's a simply way on making me stop, you know –"

"Mister Anderson," the teacher's voice suddenly interrupted. Blaine turned around swiftly at the strict tone. Without noticing the class had started. "Why don't you share what you were telling Mister Hummel just now."

"I, uh," Blaine stammered and the entire class was staring at him, much to Kurt's entertainment, "I was just telling Kurt about the origin of my passion for cooking."

Kurt let out a huff. Ass-kissing much?

"How endearing, why don't you tell the entire class about your passion. I'm sure we're thrilled to know," the teacher said.

"Yes, Blaine," Kurt added, "it was fascinating." He did a little finger wiggle to ridicule it and Blaine was trapped. Yes, this was highly amusing.

"Okay, um." Blaine gave him a look, a look Kurt didn't trust because he just went from lost to determined in less than five seconds. "When I was young, well, young _er_." He moved away from his station, passing the teacher and started to walk around. "My nonna told me that food is the one thing everybody has in common. We all need to eat," he clarified, stopping next to Kurt's station. "And she said that food brought people together. Which I experienced myself, in Italy where my nonna lives."

Kurt wanted to disappear through the ground – he didn't even know that Blaine was partly Italian. He had completely insulted his food heritage.

"And she told me, Blaine –" he continued in an Italian accent, " _bambino_  – hey, don't laugh, I was small, okay? – when you cook, you must imagine cooking for someone you love." The last word rolled over his tongue. Kurt had never noticed how Blaine spoke with his hands, gesturing wildly and passionately. It was actually strangely hard to look away from him, much to his own annoyance. "And if you imagine that everybody that eats your food loves you back, you can't go wrong. As long as you cook with love, there will always be a reason to cook. All the way until -" He locked eyes with Kurt and Kurt blushed, "- you only cook for the only person you truly love." He kissed his fingertips and sent the kiss away. "Then you reached your ultimate goal.  _Il vero amore_."

The class let out a collective sigh, Kurt included with a small hitch. Blaine was still looking at him before returning to his own station, leaving the teacher partly stunned in front of the room.

"O-okay," the teacher muttered. "Thank you for that, Blaine. Let's start the lesson. Chopping knives at the ready."

Kurt's hand was shaking when he reached for his required knife. He had no idea what was going on in his head, but he was definitely ignoring the impact that that stupid speech had on him. Not only did Blaine have skill, but he also had passion. Just great, exactly what he needed – a crush on the one boy that annoyed him to bits.

Blaine gave him a glance over his shoulder, sending him a soft smile before it turned into a pleased smirk _. Oh, God_ , he had noticed his confusion. His newly revealed crush vanished as quick as it came. Blaine had completely played him with his story and now Kurt was even doubting if one little fact of it was true. Angrily he started to chop up the basil. Right there he made the promise he would never give into Blaine. He would not even remotely like him and he would never think about that stupid story ever again.

**xXx**

The door from the cooler screeched open and Quinn stared down at him as he was sitting on the floor.

"Weren't you the one that told me not to stay in the cooler longer than fifteen minutes?" she asked, closing the door and stepped toward him. Kurt hadn't even noticed his skin going numb because of the cold and frankly he didn't care. "And also that drinking restaurant wine was stealing?"

"I didn't drink it," Kurt said quickly. "Much."

"Well, I can join you in this felony." She sat down next to him, crossing her legs. He reached out for the bottle and stared at the label for a little while.

"I think the real abomination is that I let this one cool." He sighed. "I might as well just buy it from Rachel so I can finish it at home."

"Hey!" Quinn gave him a playful slap. "What happened to the part where we commit a crime together?"

Kurt snorted, handing over the wine and Quinn placed it next to her, not even taking a sip.

"I gave Santana orders to clean and shut the kitchen," she said softly, "I hope that's okay, I know you gave me orders –"

Kurt cut her off with his hand. "No need to treat me like the chef in here," he said. "And thank you."

"Are you alright?" Quinn dared to ask. "I know Rachel can exaggerate a little, but did you really threaten to poison a customer?"

He nodded slowly. "Yep."

"Was that just a statement to never having to confront customer again or was there something specifically with this one? Or did he tell you the food was atrocious, because then I totally understand."

Kurt hummed, trying to select words to say. "I know him," he finally said. "He's like the ghost from your past that you try to forget so hard and when you think you reached that point, he just pops up, you know?"

"I know." She nodded. "So is he like an ex?"

He snorted even louder. "He wishes."

"O-kay?" She stared sideways at him, wondering if she would get more out of her made of stone boss. "You want to talk about it or -? We can like make a segment out of it. Cooler confessions?" she tried to lighten the mood, but Kurt stopped smiling and stared into nothing.

"He used to ask me out all the time. I always said no."

Cooler confessions it was. Quinn scooted closer. "Why? I didn't see him, was he ugly or something?"

"Nope, opposite of that. He was just… annoying. He always wanted to beat me in class and vice versa." Kurt felt like really needed that drink now and hated himself for handing the bottle over.

"And did he? Beat you?"

Kurt stayed quiet for a little while. "Yes," he said, barely a whisper. "He did. In a way. Fourth year of culinary institute always consisted a full year of traineeship. I was up for all the high restaurants, together with him. And then France came in the picture."

Quinn frowned. "But, you went to France, didn't you?"

"I did. Eventually." He sucked in his lips and released them again with a smacking noise. "But I wasn't their first choice. They preferred him and I only got it because he dropped out." He never found out why Blaine dropped out in the first place, because he wanted to forget that dreadful time. One moment he was sure he was going to get it and the next it all tumbled down when one of his classmates told him Blaine was running for the same internship.

"Well, that's his loss." Quinn smiled. "Because you turned into a magnificent chef." She pressed a friendly kiss on his cheek.

The door opened again and this time Santana was standing in the doorway.

"What's going on here?"

"Cooler confessions," Quinn said as if it was obvious.

"Oh, nice. Invite me too next time, I'll tell you about that one time when I was catering a hotel." Santana looked around and continued, "So I almost gagged the hobbit and told her that if the customer didn't plan on suing the restaurant, she had no business attacking you, there you go. You can thank me with a night off."

Kurt let out a hiccup and a laugh. "Thanks, San."

"De nada."

"It's ' _de rien'_."

"Bless you." Santana clapped her hands. "Okay, if we're continuing this pity party, can we please change the setting into in a bar or something?"

Kurt shook his head. "I need to close the kitchen. And go home." Both women let out a disappointing noise. "We can go out another day," he promised.

He got up before Quinn did, rubbing his arms to get some of the feeling back and excited the cooler. The kitchen was empty and almost excruciating hot compared to the cooler. He needed to close the kitchen fast so he could go home and with the help from Quinn and Santana, they were standing outside the backdoors in no time.

"See you tomorrow!" Santana said, stepping on her motorcycle and drove away.

As usual Kurt and Quinn shared their way home with the subway together until Quinn took her earlier exit and he was all alone. Later that night in his apartment, Kurt took out the replacement book of  _Mastering the Art of Professional Cooking_  and wondered for the first time in seven years what Blaine had done to the original copy.

**xXx**

The next day Kurt took every silent second in the kitchen whilst preparing as a gift from heaven. He might have escaped Rachel's wrath yesterday but as with every day he was going to see her during the presentation of the menu.

Quinn knew it was coming as well because she was suspiciously quiet.

He even seriously considered remaining in the kitchen, but reminded himself that he was no coward. With his head high he walked into the restaurant where that night's staff was already fooling around.

"Kurt!" Rachel yelled and walked to him. "I can't believe you did that yesterday! I should fire you!"

"But you won't," Kurt muttered under his breath. At this point he wished she did.

"You're lucky they didn't press charges or that there are articles about it!"

"Oh good, they're not journalists, something I  _knew_." Kurt watched the food being stalled out.

"Then who were they?" Rachel asked.

"Something far, far worse." He nodded that everybody could sit down. "Ladies and gents –"

"Kurt!"

"Tonight's menu, presented by Brit-"

"Kurt Hummel!" Rachel said even louder than she did before. "I hope you understand that this was severe misbehavior and that it can never, ever, happen again."

"So you promise me you'll never force me to leave my kitchen?" He stared at her straight in her eyes, but something outside drew his attention away from her.

The restaurant across the street was somehow different – the papers hiding the interior were being removed. Rachel noticed him staring and turned around as well, together with the rest of the staff.

A cardboard was removed from the outside, revealing a silver logo decorating the biggest window.

"What's it say?" Sugar asked, being the farthest away from the window.

"Canna –" Santana tried. "It's foreign, Cannare-"

"Cannareccione." Kurt said breathless. "Italian."

"Isn't that a bird?" Quinn asked, looking up to Kurt but he kept on staring at the workmen peeling away every little thing hiding the new restaurant.

"It's a singer, or warbler." Santana looked up from her phone where she had Googled a translation.

"This is even worse than a fastfood diner," Rachel muttered, gasping when the lights were tested inside and the warm interior was showed.

Deep inside Kurt's guts he knew something far more dreadful was coming. Carefully he stepped to the windows of La Vedette, trying to see even more of Cannareccione. There was someone outside beholding the entire reveal.

He gasped – it was the Meerkat from yesterday. What was he doing outside their new competitor? Was he the chef? He didn't look like the chef, he looked more like the manager or owner. Kurt stayed where he was, his breath fogging up the window and tried to make a mental note to ask Puck to wipe them.

The restaurant looked fancy, professional and it was turning out to be even more than just trouble. Restaurant business was hard, new toys could mean the end of an old one.

Just when Kurt thought it couldn't turn even worse, another man stepped outside the restaurant. This one wearing chef whites, cleaning his hands with a towel and walked to Meerkat to view the restaurant as well.

Kurt clenched his hands into fists, ignoring everything around him and kept on staring as the chef turned around to glance at him – or more likely at the restaurant.

Of course. He did promise he would see him around. It shouldn't had been a big surprise that Cannareccione's chef was no one other than Blaine.

* * *

There were people yelling his name, he knew that, but not even the protesting people could stop him from actually marching out the restaurant to go to the one across the street. For three years in culinary institution Blaine had been his personal plague and now he thought he could simply start working not even forty feet away from him? Like hell he was.

He had to be thankful traffic was light that day, because Kurt wasn't even slightly aware of the street he was crossing in broad daylight - in his chef's uniform, for goodness sake.

Blaine and Meerkat had already gone back inside Cannareccione and Kurt was happy to see the restaurant's doors still open. With unnecessary dramatic effect he pushed the glass doors open, trying to disguise the awe on his face because  _holy shit,_  the interior was even more beautiful up close than it looked from afar.

Everything was warm; the dark red color on the walls, the glossy wooden tables and chairs and even though the pictures on the wall were black and white, they fitted in perfectly. All the more reason to really hate this place.

With sturdy steps he continued his search for Blaine, looking around for the kitchen entrance because he would probably be working in all the equipment, and when he located the Bordeaux-colored doors, someone from the other side of the restaurant area started to call for him.

"Sir!" A boy in a waiter's outfit started to jog toward him, but Kurt couldn't care less and set pace to the doors. "Sir! We're not open yet, we open on Friday, sir!"

Kurt heard voices coming from the kitchen and the closer he got, the louder they became. As he was reaching to fling the doors open, he noticed they weren't ordinary talking voices – but singing ones.

" _When the moon hits your eye!"_ someone sung with a ridiculous Italian accent. " _Like a big pizza pie,_  Wes – the honors to you –"

He stepped through the doors and was welcomed by an Asian-descended man, arms wide open behind a counter, singing with a warm voice: " _That's amore!"_

A laugh followed from an unknown spot in the kitchen that wasn't in Kurt's sight, but the man who just sang – Wes – lowered his arms and frowned at Kurt. Not that he could blame him: a strange man in chef whites just stepped into the kitchen and he definitely didn't work here.

Kurt noticed another man, this one dark skinned and stirring in a pan with a purée that looked like tomatoes – of course tomatoes, it's an Italian restaurant – and Kurt rolled his eyes at that.

" _When you sing, ding-a-ling-a-ling – ding-a-ling-a-ling –"_  the original singing voice that Kurt heard outside the kitchen continued and the man whom it belonged to appeared around a corner, carrying a big ball of dough and opened his mouth to sing again, " _then you know you're in loooooveeeee…_ " Blaine stopped, drawling out the last word and stared at Kurt without a hint of surprise.

Kurt was sure steam was coming out of his ears, clenching his fists tightly and thinning his lips into a line.

"Well hello," Blaine smirked.

The doors behind Kurt swung open and the waiter from the restaurant appeared behind him.

"I'm sorry, he just walked in –" he started to babble and turned to Kurt, "sir, you can't come here –"

"Nick," Blaine said and the waiter became silent, "it's okay."

"But –"

Kurt felt Nick take in his uniform and probably deducted he was from another restaurant, as La Vedette's logo was proudly stitched to his pocket and sleeves.

"It's fine, Kurt just wants to talk, don't you?" Blaine plucked the ball of dough a little bit, determining whether it was ready to knead or not. His eyes were sparkling with amusement and he bit his lip teasingly, like he did many times before years ago.

With a small nod Kurt answered, much to Nick's annoyance, and he went back to the restaurant area. Wes and the other man hadn't returned to their tasks yet. Blaine noticed that as well and ordered them to continue, making Wes do something with prosciutto and the other man, whom was addressed as David, started to stir again. Blaine himself threw the dough onto the main counter on top of some flour and began to knead it with long movements. His sleeves were rolled op and with every effort he made, the muscles of his arms tensed and his uniform tightened.

Kurt heard himself swallow and he didn't even notice that Blaine was talking to him. Nor could he remember the reason why he was even there.

"So, why  _do_  we have the honor of your presence, Kurt?"

He snapped back out of his trance, blinking heavily. The sudden anger flowed back into his body and he crossed his arms quickly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked through his teeth.

Blaine shrugged. "I'm making pizza." He was still kneading and flatting the dough. "Want some?"

" _What?_ " Kurt hissed.

"Pizza." Blaine stared at him as if he was doubting his sanity. "Do you want some? We're making  _Pizza Margherita con Prosciutto di Parma_." The Italian rolled off his tongue and Kurt was ignoring the shivers down his spine.

"No," he answered, almost disgusted, "I'm asking why are you here across from  _my_  restaurant?"

Blaine pursed his lips, which was a sign he was going to say something completely obnoxious, and raised one finger, which indicated it was even  _more_  obnoxious. "Not your restaurant," he said and stood straight up, taking back his hands from the dough, "as I can recall a lovely lady talking too much about  _her_  restaurant."

The fact he described Rachel as lovely stung more than the comment that he didn't own La Vedette and he was not sure why.

"That doesn't matter because I still work there," he snapped.

"And I work here now." Blaine took some more flour and sprinkled it over the dough.

" _Why?_ " Finally Kurt was back at the fact he wanted to find out.

He watched Blaine chop out a piece of the dough, weighing it in his hands before he continued with only that part. "Because I was done travelling and my brother had a spot in this restaurant. And you know,  _famiglia_." He flashed a huge grin.

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, he owns like a dozen restaurants over the East coast. I never told you that?" Blaine furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember if he had ever told that. "Oh wait," he looked Kurt straight in the eye, "I always  _wanted_  to tell you that if you would come on a date with me." Slightly angry he threw down the smaller ball and walked to a sink to wash his hands. "But we never reached that point."

"With good reason," Kurt quickly quipped.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Sure…"

"Whatever, that doesn't take away the fact you started to work right across from my restaurant – "

"Not your restaurant."

"Oh, fuck you!  _Merde!_ " Kurt bit his tongue immediately, closing his eyes and Blaine only seemed more amused by his outburst. He was drying his hands with a towel and walked pass the counters to get closer to Kurt.

Kurt took a few deep breaths. He didn't swear much in front of other people or strangers – and definitely not in front of people of the same branch, and he couldn't believe he let himself go like that. His eyes opened again and he saw Blaine leaning against a counter, three feet away from him and still drying his hands. There was a smile playing on his lips and he looked up from underneath his eyelashes.

"Do you speak French to your lovers?" he asked sultry.

" _What_?" Kurt sounded appalled.

"Hey! You've been asking me a million questions, it's only fair if I get to ask at least one. Apart from the pizza question, because you're still welcome to share a slice with me." Blaine pushed himself off the counter and dropped the towel somewhere. Suddenly he was really close, their chests almost touching and Blaine had to look up to meet Kurt in the eye. "So, I always wondered," he said softly in order that Wes and David couldn't hear him, "do you speak French to your lovers?" His breath felt warm on Kurt's skin and Kurt was still in such a state of shock that he couldn't even think of answering. "Do you whisper sweet French words into his ear when you're close?" Blaine moved so it was him whispering into Kurt's ear. " _Je t'aime?_   _Mon amour?_ "

Goosebumps appeared on Kurt's forearms and his eyes were fluttering shut. He needed to shove Blaine away, create distance and definitely not lean forward so they were touching or take in Blaine's scent. Suddenly, however, Blaine stepped back and Kurt made a protesting noise at the cold air in front of him instead of the warm human being.

The disappointment didn't last long because as soon as he saw the smug grin on Blaine's face, he froze all over again.

"I hate you," he said and Blaine laughed out loud.

"Say it more often and I'll start thinking you'd actually like me. Or maybe even love me." He bit his lower lip and his eyes flickered down to Kurt's, making him feel insecure and he sucked them in. "Ah, love!" Blaine said and flailed his arms. "Such an ugly word, actually." Blaine frowned. " _Love_ , ugh, no. When they were making up the English word for it, they should have listened to the Italians. Or French for that matter." He turned around to walk to David, grabbed a spoon from a shelf and dipped it into the tomato sauce. " _Amore_. _Amour_ ," he drawled out the R's, "way more  _rrr-_ romantic."

"You're giving me a language lesson?" Kurt cocked an eyebrow and Blaine laughed.

"Maybe," he answered and tasted the sauce, licking the spoon with his eyes locked on Kurt's. Kurt hadn't even noticed how dark his eyes were – they seemed completely lust-blown and when he swallowed, he let out the most obscene moan Kurt had ever heard. "Heaven, man," he said and smacked David's arms, "heaven! Just add some salt and we can start testing our new baby." He looked back at Kurt . "Our stone-oven," he clarified.

"I don't care," Kurt said coldly.

Blaine lowered the spoon back into the sauce and for a second Kurt thought he was going to taste again, but instead he walked toward Kurt with a cautious hand underneath it to keep from spilling on the floor.

"Here, taste it," he offered and held up the spoon. Kurt looked down, scrunching his nose.

"That spoon has been in your mouth."

"Other things could be in my mouth, if you're suggesting that." His eyebrow quirked a bit and Kurt's eyes widened.

"You just dipped a spoon that has been used into a sauce meant for customers - you're disgusting."

"Well, I guess I'll be the only one eating pizza then. And besides I'm only testing the kitchen, and if you just taste it, you wouldn't mind sharing a pizza and maybe after that I can find out whether you speak French to your lovers or not…"

Kurt's mouth opened in shock and Blaine took the opportunity to shove in the spoon with sauce. Kurt let out a choking noise, but closed his lips around the spoon and Blaine pulled it back carefully. His eyes closed as the warm sauce hit his taste buds and suddenly his entire mouth was filled with the overwhelming aroma of the tomatoes. His trained tasting skills kicked in, and carefully he took in all the ingredients that were used. He tasted garlic, spices and indeed a small lack of salt, but overall – the sauce was indeed heaven with a smoky flavor. There was something done with the tomatoes that made them taste like that.

He opened his eyes again. "Roasted?" he asked without realizing and Blaine shook his head.

"Burned." Blaine was close again, whispering softly. "Burned over an open fire until the skin is black." That explained the smokiness.

While the taste in his mouth was fading, the anger and reason why he was there returned.

"Did you – did you just  _force_  me to taste your sauce?" he spluttered.

Blaine just shrugged. "You seemed to like it."

"Next time you do that, I will report your ass to the health and hygiene inspection, oh my God – you could have  _poisoned_  me." Kurt wished he could spit out the sauce.

"Like you threatened to do yesterday." Blaine rolled his eyes. "Why are you still so touchy about things? School was years ago,  _any_  chef could have started to work here." He walked away to continue with his dough.

"Yes, and apparently I pissed someone up high off, because they sent me you." Kurt stepped forward to reduce the distance. "You might be new here but I have been around here longer. I know New York, I know its inhabitants. New York needs finery, not another pizza hut –"

"Ouch, that hurt," Blaine said.

"- so get ready to pack your bags soon, because I don't surrender easily, Blaine Anderson. This is my town, my street, and I won't let you beat me!"

Blaine tilted his head to the right as Kurt controlled his rage.

"Can I ask you out now?" he asked when Kurt returned to his normal color.

"Oh my  _God_!" Kurt threw his arms up, grabbing his hair in despair. "You're unbelievable! No, the answer is still  _no_  and never will be yes," he yelled, "so please, please give it up. As you said – school was years ago."

Blaine pouted the same way he always did when Kurt rejected him.

"Some habits never change," he said and a silence fell.

Kurt knew he had to leave, preferably five minutes ago than now, but wanted to make one final statement before he would return to La Vedette.

"Just so you know," he said, "this isn't over."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up. "Are you declaring war, Chef Hummel?"

"Maybe," Kurt managed to say teasingly and he turned around to storm out of the kitchen, missing Blaine's excited smile.

David appeared on his side, shaking his head. "I can see why you like him," he said dryly.

"I know." Blaine sighed a bit love-struck.

"He's never going to say yes, is he?" Wes joined his other side.

Blaine huffed. "Oh, he will," he said with a serious undertone and kept his eyes on the doors, "one day, my friends, one day. Anyway, where were we?" He licked his lips, trying to remember what they were doing before Kurt came to be a terrible spy. "Oh right, and a-one a-two- a-tree –  _when the moon –"_

**xXx**

" _\- hits your eye like a big pizza pie! That's amore!"_

Kurt ignored the returned singing as he tried to return to La Vedette. Nick the waiter shot him an annoyed glance, placing glasses one by one on the tables and shaking his head. There was another waiter busy on the other side, this one with lush blonde hair and Kurt couldn't care less.

"That's him," Nick said and the other waiter stared at him like he was some kind of zoo-animal.

He rolled his eyes and kept on ignoring everything happening in the restaurant. He needed to go back to his own kitchen to report to his cooks, and maybe even Rachel. Every element in his mission to destroy Blaine's attempt to beat him was welcome and Rachel was very persistent in certain things.

The glass doors he barged through moments ago was nearing and he could already see La Vedette across the street. He was so close he could already hear the traffic, but then someone blocked his way.

 _Ugh_ , said Kurt almost out loud – it was the Meerkat.

"Chef Hummel," he greeted him, "already spying on the competition?"

"Italian restaurants are hardly considered competition," he lied, crossing his arms and sighed annoyed.

"Well, we'll see about that," the man mused, "I believe we haven't been properly introduced yet. My name is Sebastian Smythe, Cannareccione's restaurant manager." He held out his hand for Kurt to shake, but Kurt eyed it like it was something horrid and unhygienic.

"I'm sorry, I don't feel safe touching things here, because your executive chef just forced down a spoon down my throat."

"How rude," Sebastian concurred, but didn't seem to mean it. "Anyway, I can assure you my hands are perfectly clean. Unlike you snail-eaters."

Kurt's eyes widened to comic proportions.  _Oh_ , he thought,  _is this the way we're going to play?_

"Keep your garlic-breath far away from me, Jersey Shore scum," he bit back. "Let me leave so I can cook some decent food, instead of the garbage here that you can get faster than an ambulance."

"I couldn't care less about your food, the origin, or whatever. I don't even care what Blaine is serving to my future customers, aka your ex-costumers." Sebastian came closer, trying intimidate him, but apparently didn't realize Kurt had to deal with yelling French chefs for over a year. "All I care about is a forever closed sign on the door of your pathetic restaurant." His eyes flickered outside to La Vedetta where Rachel was standing behind the main window, waiting for Kurt to come back. "There's a new toy in town, chef Hummel. And people love new toys."

"Yes," Kurt said, pursing his lips, "but they always drop them faster than a flaming pan when they realize it is just a mediocre replacement. And then the old toys are there to stay."

Sebastian laughed, hiding his mouth behind his hand. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? Thought so already with the rat-poison threat, which I will keep in mind once the inspection comes around." He lowered his hand again. "I couldn't believe Blaine when he told me he wanted to eat your food, and pay for it, even. But I guess that's Blaine, ever the gentleman."

Kurt tried to keep his poker face. If Blaine was dating this chipmunk, he wouldn't have asked him out, would he? Again he felt the sting like he did when Blaine called Rachel lovely – was it jealousy? Could Kurt be jealous of something he only had to say yes to? Blaine never told him bluntly that he liked him, or thought he was attractive or handsome. He would always just ask him out and Kurt would say no. That was their game, a game they had a hiatus on and it recently commenced. But maybe if Blaine did tell him he thought he was attractive at least, would he respond differently?

This was giving him a headache.

He looked back up to Sebastian and internally laughed at himself. He? Jealous of – of this? They could have each other, good riddance. A snort escaped him and Sebastian looked at him surprised.

"I'm happy I amuse you."

"Good for you," Kurt smiled, not caring about his serious posture anymore. He needed to leave and have a good glass of wine with his girls, spilling all of his naked Blaine fantasies. Just because he couldn't stand the guy, didn't mean he didn't objectify him like a normal human. He felt tired, and had an upcoming headache – he really needed to leave.

"Just to make sure we're clear," Sebastian said, "I don't care about anything but ruining your precious little pathetic excuse for a restaurant."

"Why do you have such a grudge against La Vedette?" Kurt mused out loud.

Sebastian scowled at him, walking away without even properly answering and Kurt remained astonished on his spot. He turned around to find Nick and the blonde waiter still staring at him and he jerkily shook his head. No wonder they hired Blaine to be the chef here – everybody was crazy.

Quickly he stepped outside and crossed the street, back to La Vedette.

**xXx**

"Did he literally say that?" Rachel asked later that day. Both of them were standing in front of the main window, watching the evening fall and saw Cannareccione test their outer lighting.

"All he wants is to ruin La Vedette," Kurt answered, repeating Sebastian's words.

He kept his information on Blaine minimum, mainly because he didn't say his reasons to work there, and Rachel seemed more interested in Sebastian anyway.

"And his name was again?"

"Sebastian Smythe." Kurt straightened his jacket. Quinn was running the preparations while he was doing his report, but guests were coming soon and he needed to start on the appetizers.

"Smythe, Smythe… oh!" Rachel raised her hand like she just had an epiphany. " _Smythe_ , I knew I knew that name from somewhere. That asshole wanted La Vedette!"

Kurt frowned. "How could he want La Vedette? It was your idea?"

"No," Rachel shook her head, "he wanted the location. We had been battling for months via real estate to get it. I never met him, but – oh my  _God!_ " she shrieked at an ear-deafening volume. "That was him, wasn't it? The guy that was with the cute one?" She didn't even wait for Kurt to nod before she started to curse more than a sailor. 'That bastard made me pay more than the asked price because he kept on raising it, the jerk! And – and he ate here? And you wanted to poison him! Oh my God, best idea ever, why didn't I let you?"

Rachel kept on raging and Kurt was happy she wasn't fixated on him.

"And now he has a restaurant across the street," Kurt cut through her rant.

"Yes, wait – no." She frowned. "It was bought by some restaurant owner, so he's just the manager. He doesn't own it, but who does then?" She looked up to Kurt.

"Blaine's brother," he said quietly, "or the chef's brother."

"But Smythe made clear he wanted to own this place. He really wanted it." Rachel seemed to have a permanent frown on her face as she tried to connect the dots.

Kurt said nothing. Hearing Rachel's story made it clear why Sebastian wanted them to go out of business – it was so he could have it.  _Over my dead body_ , he thought.

"Do we have to worry?" he asked, wondering what Rachel was thinking and she shook her head.

"No, no, they're opening on Friday, you said? We're completely full. Our guests are very loyal and just because some tacky Italian opens then, doesn't mean they run like a hoard of sheep."

"Okay," Kurt said, unconvinced. New toys were tricky, and were always trouble. "I need to head back to the kitchen, don't let me come out to accept some compliments, okay?"

Rachel shook her head again, keeping her eyes focused on Cannareccione. They both were trying to convince each other everything was going to be completely fine, but deep down they knew – this could become worse than they both anticipated.

**xXx**

The next day, three magazines and some papers miraculously were left behind in front of the doors of La Vedette. All of them had the same – articles about the new restaurant on Restaurant Row and all of them praiseful about the ambiance that was already there before they even opened.

"It's a bluff," Rachel said, "and desperate. They need to promote themselves."

"Rachel," Kurt said, a magazine in his hand as well as they were sitting in one of the private booths, "we did exactly the same when we were opening. And that turned out in three months fully booked."

"Yes, well, uhm," she frowned, "Italian and French are still attracting different kinds of audiences." Making a dramatic statement, she started to pile up all the papers. "Nobody has called yet to cancel –"

Right at that moment the main phone started to ring. They shared a quick glance and Rachel scooted to the front on her heels.

"I think you just jinxed it," he muttered and heard Rachel pick up the phone with her usual opening lines.

It was Thursday – Cannareccione was opening tomorrow, and by the way Rachel was looking, La Vedette had just received their first cancellation.

And as it was turning out – the first of many. For the rest of the day and Friday, the phone was ringing red hot. It was all Kurt could think of, trying to stay focused on the dishes he was still going to serve to the people that were coming, but failing miserably.

Even on Friday morning when he was at the fish market, he couldn't even laugh at the jokes his usual deliverer Brad was making. He was only imagining going to La Vedette and being faced with his greatest fear – being beaten by Blaine, again.

With his heart heavy in his chest, he entered through the backdoor and was greeted by Quinn bent over one of the counters, head in her hands. There were no food or preparations in sight.

"What's going on?" he asked and Quinn shook her head. She gestured to the restaurant.

Kurt left almost immediately, not even taking off his coat, and came in just as Rachel hung up the main phone. He had been seeing her do that too often the past days.

Rachel seemed defeated, resting her head in her hands like Quinn did back in the kitchen.

"Call your cooks," she said muffled, "we're closed tonight."

"What?" Kurt's heart started to thump nervously.

"You heard me." Her voice was cracked. "Everybody cancelled, not even the waiting list wants to come. We've got an empty house tonight."

"But – how? That's impossible!"

Rachel shook her head and looked out the window.

"They serve lunch, too," she said and Kurt walked to the main window so he could see it for himself. "They opened today at eleven. It's been packed since."

" _Merde_ ," he cursed.

Cannareccione was all people, lights and laughter – there were even people waiting outside to get in. He heard the noises of a large crowd having a good time and his thumping heart was sinking slowly into nothing.

It was like hearing Blaine got France all over again, but this time might be hurting even more. His main goal, the thing he built up together with his team, was being snatched away within days.

Rachel said something that she was leaving with Quinn and if he wanted to come too. He shook his head, remaining where he was.

He remembered being told to lock everything up. He remembered the lights being switched off. He remembered standing in an empty restaurant for most of the evening, watching his returned rival celebrate his win vigorously, and didn't touch one pan, knife or chopping board.

Not a single drop of sweat was wiped away from his head. And nights that passed without sweat were considered unsuccessful, as he told his staff all the time.

Tonight was definitely considered unsuccessful. The most unsuccessful one of them all.

* * *

**4\. Le Fromage**

"Truffles?" Rachel asked almost appalled and Kurt nodded. In order to discuss the Cannareccione fiasco, he intercalated an emergency meeting with her and his plan was already clear in his mind. There was only one way to return to spotlight to them, and that way was dangerous.

"Truffles," he repeated. "Fresh, French truffles. I already have a recipe with quail in my head – it's the only way."

After he went home last night, he had barely slept. The hours had noiselessly passed and all he had done was stare at the ceiling, creating the perfect revenge to finally outdo Blaine and his stupid Italian restaurant. The determination of beating him was lying as a venom on his tongue, but for all his sake – it was worth all the dangers.

"Kurt, no," Rachel burst his bubble.

"Why not?" He stared at her with wide eyes. His plan was  _seamless_ : they would put one of the most desired and luxurious dishes on the menu and everybody would come crawling back.

"Because I for one do not want to see my food expenses get higher than the Empire State Building!" she said with a shrill in her voice. "Truffles are insanely expensive, unless –"

Kurt already knew what she was about to say and he gave her a nod and a tiny, almost maniacal, smile. Her eyes practically popped out of her skull while mouthing 'no' repeatedly.

"Kurt,  _no_  –" she said again, only with her voice hushed, "we are  _not_  getting into any illegal activities."

"Why not?" he tried to reason. "Every high class restaurant are importing them through dealers, why can't we?"

"Because it's illegal," she snapped. "The reason we are liked by almost every important culinary division in this state, is because we don't get into trouble. We are clean."

"And we can remain clean if  _it is a secret_." Kurt looked around the restaurant. A few of the waiting staff were already setting things up for tonight as they decided to open again. They lost a few guests, but there were still enough coming to at least serve them. Puck was staring at him and Rachel before quickly continuing to mop the floor when he noticed Kurt watching him. "I only need a few shards of them, so I already have enough if I have two to three truffles and we can save the dish for an important night. The announcement alone is already enough to lure them back in."

He looked at her almost begging, knowing for sure this was the only way to crush and burn the competition.

"No, Kurt, I will not risk it." She closed the map with upcoming menus and shook her head. "If you find your truffles well within budget and  _legal_ , you can use them. Any above budget you can pay for yourself, but I'll be damned if I find any illegal businesses in my restaurant." She poked him harsh in the chest and he stopped himself from rubbing on the sensitive spot. "And if I do find out they're illegal," she threatened, "you  _will_  get fired. For real."

They kept their eye contact until Rachel marched away to talk to her waitresses. Kurt started to chew on the inside of his mouth, keeping his hands from balling into fists in frustration.

Was he the only one in this restaurant that understood they needed to fight hard and dirty?

With a sigh he decided he needed to go to the kitchen and wondered if he would ever get his hands on some affordable black truffles, but he knew the chance was practically nil. French truffles were rare. Back in France he had the honor of working with them for a little while until they were out and he always dreamed of using them again.

Lost in thoughts, he hadn't noticed Puck standing between him and his way to the kitchen. Puck was still holding the mop, but the floor it was dripping on had already been cleaned.

"Can I help you?" Kurt asked bluntly.

"You need truffles," he said, his voice low and soft.

Kurt cocked an eyebrow. "And what if I do?"

Puck looked around the restaurant to see if anyone was paying attention to them, but the coast was clear.

"I know someone," he whispered, "He's very discrete."

Kurt suppressed a huff. "Do you even know what truffles are? You've been working in a restaurant for only a few days now – I need the exquisite French kind, not magic mushrooms." He tried to walk away but Puck stopped him.

"I know that! Although I can hook you up with shrooms too, think it'd be funny if you use those instead, but seriously -  _I know someone_." He had an earnest look in his eyes.

It was Kurt's turn to look around the dining area to see if Rachel was still around, but she seemed to have disappeared into the wine cellar. He swallowed loudly, turning back to Puck.

"How discrete?" he asked hushed.

"Very," Puck promised. "He can even hook you up with a forged receipt, trust me."

Kurt looked away and out of the window, contemplating if the risk of losing his job was worth the trouble and then his eyes rested on Cannareccione. The hurt he felt last night returned briefly and he locked eyes with Puck.

"When can I meet him?"

"The deal can go through me, I just need to know what you want."

"Why would you want to help?" Kurt needed to know. "It's dangerous."

Puck shrugged. "What's life without a little bit of danger? But don't expect me to do this for nothing."

"What do you want?" Kurt cut to the chase.

"No more dishes."

Kurt almost laughed out loud, but remained composed and only shot him an amused look.

"You're serious? You want to risk your job, my job and the restaurant, only to no longer do the dishes?"

Puck gripped the shaft of his mop tighter. "Yes, Brett freaks me out. So for real, think about it, tell me what you need and I'll talk to  _him_." He held out his hand to seal the deal and Kurt eyed it considering.

If Puck really was that sure about the discreteness of this dealer, even with a forged receipt, he could slip through all the barriers that were withholding him from succeeding.

He took Puck's hand and shook it.

"Deal - but I need a pricelist and I want to weigh and inspect every single one of them before I buy them and I trust you keep this very,  _very_ , quiet." Kurt had no idea why he was so quickly convinced and he guessed desperate times called for desperate measures.

**xXx**

Kurt tried to act as normal as possible the following nights he worked, knowing that soon he would have the truffles in possession. They had agreed that Kurt would meet the dealer together with Puck – because Kurt didn't just trust some dealer – and Puck told him he would let him know when and where soon. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. He hadn't felt this secretive since he accidently broke Chef Fournier's skimmer and didn't tell.

La Vedette's restaurant was mostly empty every night and Rachel had said she hadn't had this bad of a week since the fourth of July weekend when New York was practically uninhabited.

It didn't keep Kurt from letting his kitchen crew become discouraged, though. Every night he yelled more, pushed harder and let them become utterly exhausted – yet content with the work they delivered. He was reaching limits and maybe even broke a few, as Sam started to cry before he even touched the onions, but they needed to realize that when they would give up, the entire restaurant would be doomed.

"Kurt?" Quinn called. She was already wearing her coat as the restaurant and the kitchen just closed. Kurt was bent over papers with recipes – all ones he never tried before because until he had his truffles, he still had to try and beat Blaine. "You coming, honey? San's already gone. There's no one here."

He looked up, realizing that his kitchen was indeed empty. Tonight had been a  _horrible_  night with three returned dishes and he had wasted a lot of saliva on yelling at the responsible ones, and in all stress he completely forgot his surroundings when the night was nearing its end.

"I need to do some things," he said and started to pile up all the papers. "You can go, I'll lock everything." But of course Quinn didn't leave immediately. Instead she was suddenly standing next to him, forcing him to look her in the eye by gently taking his chin.

"You need to go home," she said, assertively yet kind.

He shook his head as much as he could while she was holding him. "I need to do some things."

"You're stressing yourself out." Quinn let go of his chin and took his hand instead. "You can talk to me. You know that, right?"

"Of course! Of course," he said quickly, "I just, I - I have a plan. Really."

"Oh, honey," she cooed, "Everything is going to be alright! And we don't even need a plan for that."

He sucked in his lips. His entire body was tense and he knew he had been jumpy for most of the time ever since Blaine showed up again.

"I know," he said, "but I really want to try this and I need an empty kitchen for that anyway." He tried to look at her as honest as possible and she was still looking at him like any minute now she would drag him out of the kitchen  _by_   _his hair_. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes," he said, ignoring the little quiver of stress in his voice.

Quinn was still doubting, but nodded eventually. "Okay, but call me as soon as you want to talk or something."

He nodded and she squeezed his hand lightly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," she said and grabbed her bag before leaving the kitchen, backdoors swaying behind her.

Kurt started to gather the things he needed, disappearing into the pantry to retrieve the vegetables he needed and pulled out a chopping board. There was something utterly peaceful about an empty restaurant's kitchen and after choosing a knife, he started to chop up the fresh leek.

The backdoor made its usual screeching sound and a wave of cold air brushed the skin of his bare arms.

"Forgot something?" he asked absentmindedly, thinking Quinn had come back but when he looked up, Blaine was standing inside his kitchen. He was looking around and Kurt noticed he was just in his chef's uniform, not even a jacket or something.

With a clang he dropped the knife on the chopping board.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he sneered and Blaine jumped up visibly. His fright didn't last long, already giving Kurt his typical crooked smile.

"Backdoor was open, thought I'd come by and return your spying attempt."

Kurt felt his blood boil, grabbing a towel to clean his hands.

"You already infiltrated last week," he said curtly and Blaine gave him an unimpressed look. He started to wander around the kitchen, taking in every aspect of it and even took out a few items to observe them better. He seemed completely blind for Kurt's soon-to-burst temper.

"It's very you," Blaine suddenly commented and Kurt was thrown aback for a second.

"Excuse me?"

"The kitchen." He gestured around. "Very you. Clean, sophisticated – maybe a little uptight."

Kurt flushed red with anger. "Are you kidding me? Get the hell out of my kitchen or are you forgetting I actually have  _knives_  at my disposal?"

The last thing he expected was Blaine to laugh, clear as bell and loud. He appeared in front of the counter Kurt was working on, looking down to the chopped up leek.

"What are you making?" he asked with honest curiosity.

"None of your business."

"Sounds delicious."

Kurt was trying to find ways to make him leave but all he did was grab the counter tighter, making his knuckles turn white. Blaine was inspecting the shape and size of the pieced of leek and it reminded of back in culinary institute how he would always judge his skills.

"I, uhm," Blaine started, sounding shyer than ever, "I'm sorry what happened on Friday. I didn't mean – I didn't expect it would get so much out of hand."

"Really?" Kurt huffed disbelieving. "You're sorry your restaurant beat mine on its first night? Really? Honestly?"

"Hey!" Blaine said louder. "I didn't think it would go like that! I'm trying to apolo-"

"I'm trying to get you out of my kitchen!"

"You're the one that declared war, remember?"

"And you're the one coming here, laughing in my face!"

"I was trying to tell you I was sorry!"

They started to yell at each other, spitting out words that dissolved in each other and neither of them really caught full sentences. The arguing continued, until Blaine shut him up with a proposition:

"You know what this calls for, right?" he said and leaned in forward. "An old fashioned, chef Johnson's  _cook off_."

Kurt swallowed back his next sneer, falling completely silent at the triggering words: cook off. Chef Johnson was their teaching chef for International Cuisine, and he loved setting up two students to his version of a battle royale. He also loved the cook offs between Kurt and Blaine, because neither really wanted to lose to one other.

He licked his lips, pondering the option. "There's no judge," he said. Chef Johnson always decided who had won in the end.

Blaine had sparkles in his eyes and a huge smile on his face, entirely pleased Kurt was definitely considering to accept the cook off.

"We can just do the chopping part, let speed determine the winner." Blaine was so close, Kurt could smell the faint spicy scent that lingered on him. "I'll even let you decide the ingredient, as I'm probably not allowed into your pantry."

Kurt didn't even answer. Instead he ducked underneath the counter and shoved a new chopping board into Blaine's chest. Swiftly he turned around to the pantry, missing Blaine's excited smile as he set up his working place across Kurt's.

A minute later he returned with two equally big carrots and placed them both on his chopping board, giving Blaine the decision to pick which one. Blaine didn't even think it through and grabbed the one closest to him.

"Now, you picked the vegetable," Blaine continued with a devilish grin. "I pick the way."

Kurt stared at him intensely, waiting for the verdict. They could go different ways with carrots, which is why he chose them – plus it was more often used in French cuisine than Italian.

Blaine pursed his lips and Kurt tried not to stare at them.

"Brunoise," he finally said.

Kurt let out the breath he had been holding. He knew it had to go between julienne – which were thin strips – or brunoise, which were small dices of about an eighth of an inch and every single one the same size.

"May I?" Blaine pointed to the knives and took out one of his spare chopping knives. Kurt cleaned the one he used for his leek and tossed the already chopped up vegetable aside. Experimenting with new recipes could wait: he needed to beat Blaine first.

They both got ready on each side.

"Clean, peal, dice – yes?" Kurt asked to affirm the rules again.

"Yes," Blaine answered, eyeing one sink he could run to and Kurt eyed his. " _En garde_?"

" _Oui_ ," Kurt answered automatically in French.

"One – two –" Blaine's feet were shuffling and so were Kurt's, ready to run, "three!"

Both took their own carrots and stormed off to rinse them. There wasn't much dirt on Kurt's, but he made sure it was perfect before running back to his station. The adrenaline he always got from cook offs pumped through his veins and was pleased he started to peal before Blaine did.

Sounds of chopping echoed through the kitchen. Kurt tried not to pay attention to Blaine's, but he knew he was going  _fast_  – almost at lightning speed and when Kurt was finally dicing instead of slicing Blaine put down his knife.

"Done," he said self-satisfied and time stopped. Kurt looked up to find indeed perfectly brunoise chopped carrot on Blaine's board. With the adrenaline still flowing heavily through his body, he raised his hand holding the knife and forced it in deep into the board, tip first.

He acknowledged Blaine saying something along the lines of 'Woah', but Kurt was too busy cussing and ranting in several languages.

Blaine subtly put his knife away so Kurt didn't see it and tried to shush him.

"Kurt – Kurt –" he said calmly, breaking through the anger. "Kurt, come on, it's just food –"

Abruptly he became silent, staring at Blaine with big, red-rimmed eyes and Blaine was extremely happy there was a counter between them.

"Just food?" Kurt said incredulously. "It's never  _just food_. It's never  _just_  cooking." His voice was rising and he knew he was getting too passionate, but somehow he felt the need to get this out of his system. The stress, the anger – everything was bottled up inside him and it needed to come out. "If you think your job is just a job, than I am ashamed that we share this profession. I can't believe you!  _It's just food_? Food is the only thing every human has in common! I cook because I know a person out there loves it and therefore loves _me,"_  he closed his eyes, "and I will keep on cooking for them until I find that  _fucking_  person I truly love and I will only cook for him – because I want my damned –"

" _Il vero amore_ ," Blaine filled in for him softly and Kurt's eyes snapped open to find Blaine next to him instead of behind the counter. He was close – too close, and he was getting even closer. Kurt didn't know what to say anymore because Blaine's expression was completely vulnerable. His lips were parted, moving slightly as if he was trying to say something but refrained. Kurt tried to step back to create distance, only to feel the edge of the counter press against his back.

Blaine trapped him between his body and the counter, his eyes searching Kurt's face for  _something_. Suddenly everything moved too quickly: Blaine pressing against him, his hand cupping Kurt's jaw and pulling him down to crash their lips together.

Kurt was confused at first, unaware of what was happening, but then Blaine hummed against his lips and he was drowning in the missed feeling of being kissed. His hand reached up to grab the fabric of Blaine's uniform, tugging him closer and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss even more.

Blaine let out an approving noise, letting his hand draw from Kurt's jaw to his hair and gripped a few locks tightly.

Feeling bold, and having the need to control the kiss, Kurt slipped in his tongue and Blaine accepted it gratefully.  _Espresso_ , Kurt thought at first when the specific taste of Blaine hit his taste buds. But it wasn't just espresso and the urge to know what it was, was bigger than continuing to kiss. He pulled away, under many protesting mewls coming from Blaine, and forced him to look at him instead of letting him kiss his neck.

He licked his lips, still tasting the faint flavor of espresso and without thinking he asked: "Tiramisu?"

Blaine let out a huffed chuckle, smiling at him while his eyes kept on going back to his lips.

"I thought chef Hummel didn't like Italian food?" And he surged forward to steal another kiss. The teasing voice, however, brought Kurt back to reality and he pushed Blaine away. "Kurt –" Blaine said, realizing what was going on.

"What are you doing?" Kurt cursed his pitchy voice.

"I –"

"You kissed me," he said to answer himself.

"You didn't seem to mind it," Blaine replied.

"But – but I, and you – we hate each other." Kurt was riding around in an emotional rollercoaster because one part of him wanted to punch Blaine, but the other part wanted to pull him back into another kiss.

"There's a very fine line between hate," Blaine dared to cup Kurt's face again and he didn't protest, "and love." His thumbs stroked his cheekbones and one went down caress his lower lip briefly. "And don't deny that that just there, felt  _incredible_." His voice was low, except not in the teasing way when he wanted to embarrass or anger Kurt. This tone had an entire different purpose – it was meant to fluster Kurt, to make his blood boil for another reason and to make him feel wanted.

"Don't you want it, Kurt?" Blaine closed the distance again and their bodies were pressed flush against each other. "Don't you just want to let go for once?" His fingers disappeared in his hair and his blunt nails scratched over the skin, making Kurt arch his neck, baring his throat. "Don't you?" Blaine's voice was merely a hum, pressing a soft peck on his Adam's apple.

Kurt let out a whimper. Did he want it? His body was screaming yes, no doubt about that. His skin was begging to be touched, to feel Blaine's strong hands on him and just for once – Kurt felt the need to give himself entirely to someone. But did he want to give himself to Blaine? He arched his neck back so he could look at him, and there was not even a hint of indecision whether Blaine wanted it or not. His eyes were dark with desire, his lips begging to be kissed again and when his tongue darted out for a second; Kurt was completely separated from his mind.

Of course he wanted Blaine – he had always wanted Blaine, even though he's obnoxious, annoying and his own personal plague.

"Do you want it?" Blaine murmured, with his lips so close to his that it was an offer Kurt just couldn't refuse.

Hungrily he locked their lips together, teeth clinking with the force but neither of them cared. Blaine let go of his head to grip the counter, and to keep Kurt as close as possible. There were shuffles behind him and suddenly Blaine broke the kiss to look down at the counter. Before Kurt realized what he was doing, Blaine sent the chopping boards, leek and carrots to the floor to clear out the space and with unsuspected strength, he lifted Kurt with his arms and placed him on the counter.

Even though he was higher than Blaine, he somehow felt more vulnerable and had to bend his back in order to kiss him again. The warmth of Blaine's hands was almost burning through Kurt's pants, as his fingers dug in deep to feel his thighs. It was going fast and messy, and frankly – Kurt didn't even care.

The arms that placed him on the counter were quickly pulling him off again, and he lowered Kurt onto the floor. The cold tiles touched his back and he was happy the food and items Blaine had thrown off the counter were on the other side.

Blaine straddled him right on the hips, grinding down in reflex and both of them let out a strangled moan.

"You're so hot," Blaine gasped, taking Kurt's arms and placed them above his head. "You already looked gorgeous in your student uniform, but  _fuck_ , Kurt – I couldn't have even dreamed you would fill out chef whites this well." His hands stroked down his arms, all the way to his chest where his fingers lingered at the first set of buttons. "I've always wanted to do this," he said huskily and popped open the first button, "always wondered how you would look when I'd do this." He leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against Kurt's, and Kurt kissed back languidly. "And truth be told," he breathed as his fingers blindly did the rest of the buttons, "You look even more beautiful than I ever imagined."

Air hit his skin as he forwent his undershirt that day, and Blaine's hand slipped underneath the partially open shirt. His fingers quickly found an already perked up nipple and Kurt couldn't help but buck his hips up when Blaine tweaked it gently.

A shuddered chuckle escaped Blaine's lips, grinding down to answer Kurt's movement. Oh God, he was so hard, and as Blaine rolled his hips – Kurt could feel he was hard too.

One hand remained teasing his nipple as the other one traveled south, reaching his zipper and Blaine pushed himself up with his legs so their crotches were no longer touching. Kurt let out a protesting whimper, but it died quickly when Blaine shamelessly cupped him through his pants.

Blaine leaned forward again, their faces aligned as Kurt was trembling underneath his touch.

"Tell me, Kurt –" Blaine whispered, opening the button of his pants and lowering the zipper, "And you're allowed to show, rather than tell –" His hand went into his boxer briefs and Kurt came completely undone when his fingertips briefly touched the head of his aching cock. "Do you speak French to your lovers?"

" _Oui!_ " Kurt cried out, and Blaine took him entirely into his hand. His fingers were rough and calloused and mercifully, absolutely mercifully, perfect. He stroked up, freeing him from his boxer briefs and pants altogether and almost teasingly continued to jerk him off. " _Mon Dieu, s'il te plaît –_ "

"Fuck, Kurt!" Blaine fastened his pace, keeping his eyes on Kurt's face rather than on his cock and started to grind down onto Kurt's thigh. "Come on,  _mio caro_ , let me hear you scream."

Kurt did so immediately, huffing out tiny moans after and his arms felt heavy when he reached up to grab Blaine's face. He needed to kiss him, to show him he wanted it – that he wanted him. The kiss was messy, with too much tongue and no finesse, but it was utterly blissful. Kurt sat up, throwing his arms around Blaine's neck and kept him on his lap. Blaine hummed approvingly against his mouth and rolled down harder onto his thigh, gasping at the friction.

Kurt was getting close, his orgasm boiling up low in his stomach and soon enough he threw his head back as he came. Blaine sped up his grinding while stroking Kurt through his orgasm and stared at him in amazement. Kurt let go of his neck and fell back onto the hard ground.

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine whimpered and started to come into his pants. " _Mio caro bello_ ,  _sei bellissimo_."

Kurt was feeling entirely spent, smiling up languidly at Blaine and allowed him to drop his dead weight onto his chest. His face was buried into the crook of Kurt's neck, breathing heavily as he returned from his post-orgasmic state.

"Come home with me?" he asked softly, pressing a kiss to his throat. "I have a very nice rug on the floor, way more comfortable than this." Another kiss. "And a bed." Another one. "And some tiramisu…"

In response Kurt hummed, and he blamed his light-headedness when he answered: "Yes."

* * *

**5\. Le Dessert**

Kurt tried to remember whether he locked the kitchen properly or not. Ever since he agreed on going home with Blaine, his memory turned foggy – and that also had to do with Blaine squeezing his knee during their taxi-ride and leaning in close to press tiny kisses on his jaw, cheek and lips. It was almost as if Blaine was continuing to distract him from freaking out and leaving, but deep down Kurt already knew there was currently nothing he wanted more than Blaine naked and spread out on a decent bed.

He was grateful they reached Blaine's apartment block in a short amount of time, and after Blaine tossed some dollars to the driver, he stepped out and reached for Kurt to come along.

They didn't speak, not even about little things like where Blaine lived or the weather. All they did was glance at each other as they went through the front door and into the elevator. Blaine seemed strangely nervous, something Kurt thought should be more applied to him, but somehow he hadn't felt this relaxed since he took a French spa a couple of years ago – and that was saying something.

The elevator doors slid open and Kurt was the first to enter the hallway. He looked over his shoulder to find Blaine leaning against the nearest wall, staring at Kurt with an adoration he hadn't seen on a man's face in long time.

"What number?" Kurt asked as sultry as possible.

Blaine pushed himself off the wall, gesturing further down the hallway and led the way. Eventually they stopped at number 301 and Blaine's hand shook as he tried to open the door with his keys.

"I've –" he said, and Kurt was glad he was still able to talk, "I've only been living here for a month now." The lock clicked and with a screech the door opened. "So, I'm sorry it's a bit empty, and a mess," he added, stepping in first.

"Hey," Kurt shrugged, "You promised me a rug –" He passed Blaine, walking into the apartment and wasn't really surprised that Blaine had been exaggerating about the mess. The room was neat, a bit empty, yes, but decorated with a simple touch – dark colors combined with white on the walls and in front of the couch there was indeed a very soft looking rug on the floor. "A bed –" he continued, and spotted a door that probably led to the bedroom. Blaine closed the door behind him, reaching for Kurt's coat to take it off. "And tiramisu." He turned around, catching Blaine by surprise, his coat halfway down. With a simple shrug he threw it on the floor, latching his freed arms around Blaine's neck and pretending he didn't hear him suck in a sharp breath.

"Kurt –"

"Now, I  _do_  hope you have some condoms and lube lying around somewhere, because otherwise we're going to have a problem."

He tried not to be too satisfied with the little moan that escaped Blaine's lips, except he couldn't deny he felt like he was in an overpowering position – and what a lovely position to be in.

Suddenly Blaine grabbed Kurt's waist, squeezing hard and surged forward to press his lips against Kurt's. It was a hard kiss, only lips touching and didn't last long as Blaine already pulled back.

"You can't say shit like that," he muttered, hands trailing to the front to the lower buttons. His hands had already been close there, remembering it alone made Kurt blush, but this time he was reaching for the lower buttons of his slightly dirty chef's coat.

"I can say whatever I want," Kurt countered back. He started to let his fingers trail through the soft curls that became longer as he went up and took a firm grip on them, pulling Blaine's head back to expose his neck. "And  _do_  whatever I want." He kissed a spot underneath his jaw that had been begging for his lips ever since they started to fool around back in the kitchen.

He felt Blaine swallow, letting out tiny whines as he trailed up to let their mouths join into a more sloppy kiss. His breath started to hitch and the first button of his shirt was already undone without him noticing.

"You're so beautiful," Blaine gushed, resting his cheek against Kurt's. "I could just stare at you all day." His voice was raw and scratchy and sounded more amazing than the pop of an expensive, seven year aged bottle of Chardonnay. "This okay?" he asked softly, afraid to continue undoing the rest of the buttons. He pulled his head back and searched an answer on his face, making Kurt feel unsure for a millisecond. It was the first time Blaine asked if it was okay what he was doing – unlike before where he just asked if he wanted it, and not even asking specifically  _what_  he wanted. Blaine's eyes were pleading while awaiting an answer, but he also looked anxious, never in all his years of knowing Blaine, had Kurt seen him without his usual confident air.

"Do you want it?" Kurt managed to ask, voice breathy. Blaine's entire face widened in surprise at the question, looking down to the floor for a moment before looking back. "I thought we were already pretty clear I want it, but do you?"

"Kurt!" Blaine gasped. "I've –  _yes_ , there's nothing more I want. I want you, I've always wanted you."

"Then stop asking me silly things if it's okay because I didn't sign up for that," Kurt said harsh, hands going down to Blaine's collar and lower to the buttons of his shirt.

Blaine shook his head for a second before the sly grin returned. "Yes,  _chef_ ," he murmured and together they started to hastily unbutton each other's shirts.

The more skin was revealed underneath the fabric, the dryer Kurt's mouth became. He always wondered how Blaine would look completely naked, mainly because it was practically obligatory when seeing him for the first time and now he would actually  _see it_   _in the flesh_. And touch it. And most probably lick and taste it.  _Oh yeah, definitely lick it_ , he thought after the final button popped and a long stripe of bare skin appeared between the two halves of his shirt.

Blaine's hands stilled on the button he was working on, his head looking down at Kurt's hand that was slowly reaching for his lower abdomen. The muscles contracted underneath his touch, flinching back and Kurt didn't let the hesitation scare him off. His hand glided over the warm skin and soft hairs and he went to help Blaine take his shirt off.

Kurt hummed approvingly as the chest was finally revealed completely, the shirt somewhere discarded on the floor. He kept his hands on his shoulder, squeezing a little to bring Blaine back from wherever his mind was.

"I believe you were busy with something?" He used his calm chef voice, making Blaine snap back up and without even a blink he went on more frantically to undo his shirt. Kurt couldn't even grasp the concept that after several months he was finally going to be naked with a man again – not to mention it was going to be with  _Blaine_ , and as soon as the shirt was on the floor, Kurt pulled him close.

Blaine's blunt nails scraped over the panels of his back, his hands lingering down his spine to finally take grip on his ass. Kurt arched up, only his toes touching the floor and he even allowed Blaine to lift him up, just like he did in the kitchen merely an hour ago. He kept himself steady on Blaine's shoulders as he was being carried to, hopefully, the rug and seconds later he was being lowered to his back.

Blaine let go of him, standing up straight while Kurt propped himself up on his elbows. He felt shameless, feasting his eyes on Blaine's well-defined torso and purposely licked his lips. Blaine grunted a little, blindly taking off his shoes and kicking them away.

"Is the rug to your satisfaction?" Blaine mused. Apparently he didn't wear socks as he walked forward, a bare foot aside each of Kurt's thighs. Kurt let his fingers rake through the soft threads; it was thick and definitely better than the kitchen floor. He hummed approvingly, raising his knee up so his leg was between Blaine's and gently lifted his calf to let it rub against Blaine's already bulging crotch. "Kurt –" Blaine choked.

"The waiting time is way too long, honey, better kick it up a notch."

"You're going to be the death of me," he said, giving Kurt's leg a little smack so he would lower again. Kurt cocked his head to the left and gave him an amused smile. "I'll just –" Blaine turned around to eye the room to which Kurt thought led to the bedroom and snapped back quickly, "Get some… preparations… and then I'll be at full service."

"I like chefs who prepare." Kurt didn't know where the words were even coming from, but somehow they kept on rolling off his tongue. Blaine smiled crookedly, promising he'd be back shortly and in the time he was gone, Kurt took off his shoes and socks. His pants were tight and his cock felt neglected even though it was going to get more attention than it did the past few months, and as he was feeling impatient, Kurt trailed his hand down to palm himself through his pants.

"Jesus," he heard someone say softly and he looked up to find Blaine to be back, dropping a bottle of lube and some foil packets on the floor. It was also then Kurt noticed Blaine already got rid of his own pants, dressed only in a pair of tight black briefs and the bulge even more obvious than it was before. "Decided to start without me? How rude."

Kurt didn't even get the chance to reply, letting out a surprised squeak when Blaine practically dropped himself entirely onto him. He was straddling his hips again, a hand slipping behind his neck to pull him into a sweet and honest kiss that quickly turned heated. Kurt softly bit Blaine's lower lip and held it between his teeth as Blaine tried to pull back. Blaine answered with another forceful kiss, and the hand that was previously on Kurt's neck darted down over his chest, reaching all the way down to the zipper he knew very well how to undo. After some pulling and shuffling, Kurt was finally spread out naked on the rug, watching Blaine's eyes take in every inch of his body and let out a hum in anticipation.

He could barely believe how unashamed he felt. His skin was highly oversensitive and even the tiniest touch made him gasp. "Blaine," he whined, hoping he would get the hint to get rid of his briefs as well.

Blaine rolled off of him, viciously taking his briefs down and before he could roll back onto him, Kurt was already pinning him down.

" _Kurrrt_ ," Blaine said, drawling out the r. His eyes were closed, his long lashes fanned out against his cheeks and he was breathing heavily through his mouth, lips parted.

"Hmm?" Kurt hid his face in the crook of Blaine's neck, pressing soft kisses up until he reached his jaw. Blaine was positively panting underneath him and with every slight move Kurt made, he felt Blaine's hardness slide against his thighs.

Blaine freed his arms, wrapping them around Kurt and lowered until his hands took a firm grip on his ass. Kurt let out a soundless gasp.

" _Mio Dio,_ " Blaine muttered and let his fingers dig in deep into the flesh, spreading the cheeks, and Kurt shot up forward when a finger grazed his entrance. "Want you."

Kurt smiled. "I thought we already stated that."

"No," Blaine said and Kurt looked up to meet his eyes, "I  _want_  you." A heavy silence grew between them.

"Want me how?" Kurt asked, whispering. Blaine seemed to look at everywhere except his eyes, licking his lips before he leaned up to kiss him softly. " _Blaine,_ " Kurt said, cutting his kiss off, "stop it and tell me – do you want to fuck me?"

"Yes." It came out softly, and Blaine wasn't done yet. "But I also you want you to fuck me."

It startled Kurt for a moment, looking down at the man that looked so much like the Blaine he knew, but he also looked like an entire different Blaine. A hot feeling grew in his stomach as he imagined sliding in and out of this gorgeous man and suddenly it felt like everything came together – it wasn't like they had to stop after one round. They both wanted it, so why not have it?

"What do you want first?" Kurt asked and Blaine's eyes widened rapidly. He didn't even answer, instead he let the finger that had been grazing his hole circle it more intently.  _Clear enough_ , Kurt thought and cupped Blaine's face to demand another kiss.

They started to fight for control – control of the kiss, control of the touching and control of who was on top. Finally Kurt gave in and let himself be rolled onto his back, Blaine mouthing down his chest with sloppy kisses.

"So. Damn. Beautiful," Blaine said against his skin, a kiss between each word. Without a warning, Blaine turned him so he was lying with his chest against the rug. Almost automatically he arched his back, giving Blaine the full view of his ass. He started to tremble underneath the strong hands that were kneading every given part of his body and when he felt Blaine's breath against his ass, he was pretty sure he was going to collapse. The breath didn't linger long. Suddenly Blaine moved away and Kurt was about to complain until Blaine handed him a pillow.

"Seems more comfortable," Blaine mumbled as an explanation and Kurt was actually grateful, clasping the pillow between his arms and rested his head on it. A hand nudged his legs to spread wider and Blaine settled himself between them. Blaine seemed to take his time, hands roaming his thighs and back until they harshly grabbed the cheeks of his ass and spread them as far as they could. Kurt moaned, arching up even further. One hand disappeared and he heard a faint pop somewhere. He didn't think it through and soon a slippery finger started to circle his hole, dipping in every so often and eventually pushing in completely.

Blaine was breathing raspy, as if he was holding himself back and Kurt didn't want such nonsense. Quickly he demanded more, rolling his hips back and forth and fucking himself down on the finger. Blaine didn't even hesitate complying and adding a second one, crooking his fingers and widening his entrance. They started to move together, all the way until three fingers spread him enough and Blaine started to lose his self-control –  _finally_.

"Ready," Blaine said, but not really as a question. He was sort or less stating it and Kurt only had to nod once into the pillow before Blaine removed his fingers and the distinctive sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open tickled his hearing.

He couldn't see what was going on, but the grunt that Blaine let out said enough that he was lubing his dick up. The thought alone of Blaine touching himself, made Kurt's cock throb heavily between his legs. He wanted to reach down and stroke himself to oblivion once again, except the slow torture of letting Blaine have control was more thrilling than a quick release.

The overheated hands returned, holding the sides of his waist and his entire body was bursting with apprehension of what came next. Slowly, almost excruciating, Blaine guided himself inside, partially covering Kurt's back with his upper body until he was completely buried inside Kurt. Together they let out a sigh of contentment.

Kurt felt completely full, letting out breathy moans as Blaine kissed the pan of his right shoulder. He moved his hips like he did before, dragging Blaine out slowly and moved back quickly to let him snap in again. Blaine started to thrust faster, holding so tight on Kurt's hips and ass he was sure it was going to leave marks – and the thought of that only turned him on more.

" _Merde_ ," he cussed loudly when Blaine was perfectly aligned to hit his prostate with every thrust.

"S'that good,  _Tesoro?_ "

"Shut up –  _ah –_ and fuck me," Kurt hissed back, not wanting to give Blaine  _any_ praise even though he deserved it because  _fuck_  – if this wasn't the most perfect sex he had ever had, he seriously needed to rethink his life choices. From the way Blaine was now forcing him down by grabbing his hair to the sounds Blaine was making – everything was overwhelming and perfect.

Blaine stopped talking, only letting out grunts and whines as he thrust harder and harder. Kurt could barely take it anymore, having trouble keeping himself steady and up and soon Blaine was holding him up all by himself. His limbs were too heavy and the heat was already gathering in his belly, coiling up quickly and begging for release. Blaine seemed to notice and pulled him back, sinking into him completely and reached down to just  _touch_  Kurt's throbbing cock. Kurt mewled and fell apart by a simple touch. There were stars scattered across his vision and he managed to stay conscious long enough to feel Blaine hold him tighter as they came together. The last thing he remembered was coming over Blaine's hand and Blaine whispering his name before he closed his eyes and sunk away deep in his afterglow.

**xXx**

Kurt woke slowly, easy and a bit lazy, and stretched out his entire body.

"Well hello there, sleeping beauty," he heard Blaine whisper and opened one eye to see him lying next to him on his side, still naked and utterly gorgeous. He had a dopey smile on his face, eyes never leaving Kurt's face and the smile even turned more toothy when he noticed Kurt was looking at him too.

"Did I – did I pass out?" Kurt asked unsure and wanted to disappear into the floor when Blaine nodded. With a grunt he hid his face in the pillow, ignoring Blaine's husky chuckle.

"Not for long," Blaine cooed and Kurt let out a huff into the pillow, "just long enough for me to clean up and I must say you look adorable when you're sleeping." A kiss was pressed on the start of his shoulder. "And actually, right now, you look very delicious." Teeth scraped gently over the spot he kissed previously and Kurt couldn't help but smile, turning his head to face him and was stunned how lovingly he found Blaine staring at him. "Hey," Blaine said softly, his bedroom eyes even darker than before.

"Hey," Kurt said back, wanting to reach out for him but Blaine started to scramble up. "Where are you going?" he asked while Blaine walked naked to the large kitchen area that took up a major part of the living area – a typical chef's trade.

"'Gonna whip some cream," Blaine answered nonchalantly.

Kurt turned around to lie on his back and frowned confused. "Why?"

Blaine looked over his shoulder, sending him a wink before opening the fridge. "So I can lick it off you," he said and bent over, giving Kurt a full display of his perfect round ass. His body suddenly felt far from tired and started to buzz with anticipation. He sucked in a breath when his sensitive cock twitched with interest against his thigh, but decided to ignore it for a moment as he watched Blaine pour in some liquid cream into a bowl. Blindly Blaine reached up to get small bottle that had a few vanilla beans and Kurt noticed there were no mixers around – meaning Blaine would most likely whisk it by hand.

There was something utterly arousing about watching Blaine doing his thing in the kitchen. He always looked like he knew exactly what he was doing, especially back in school, and watching him do it completely free of clothes and still unstrung from the sex sent sparks all over Kurt's body.

He sucked in a sharp breath when Blaine grabbed the whisker, turning around with the bowl in his hand to face Kurt and started to whip up the cream with fast motions. His arms were tensing and the muscles flexed under the pressure but it didn't keep Blaine from whisking it until it turned fluffier.

A few long minutes later the cream seemed to have reached the substance Blaine was aiming for and after giving Kurt a smile he turned around to search for something. From one of the cabinets he fetched something that looked like a napkin, and Kurt shouldn't have been surprised that Blaine owned piping bags – he did have some at home himself when he felt like decorating cakes and pies.

With a spatula Blaine filled the bag with the cream and tested the iron tip by squeezing out a little blob on the sideboard. Apparently it passed the test because Blaine turned around with the most wicked grin on his face. He held the piping bag in front of him as he walked back to Kurt.

"It's not the most stable cream, but I'm sure we'll comply," he said, sinking down onto his knees. Before he could start, however, Kurt beckoned him up.

"Tasting," he said teasingly and Blaine stared at him dumbfounded. "Come on, it has to get past the chef first." He opened his mouth and licked his lips, cheering internally when Blaine let out a squeaky noise. He let his tongue dart out again and Blaine reached to squeeze a little blob onto it, but before he got to taste the sweetness, Blaine's lips were on his and he licked most of the cream into his own mouth. From what hit his taste buds – Kurt could tell the cream was  _outstanding_.

Licking the last bit of cream from his lips, Blaine shuffled back to get into the best position to create a trail of cream over his chest and abdomen. He was about to squeeze out the first droplet, but suddenly stood up straight.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, honestly worried.

Blaine looked down to the unpacked condoms that were discarded on the rug and turned back to Kurt.

"Well," he said, "I kind of want to lick cream from a  _certain_  body part –" Kurt flushed red, the certain body part in question hardening again, "and I was wondering if we needed – " Blaine was adorable when he was nervous, "do we need protection for that?" he blurted out.

Kurt cocked his head to the side, a smile decorating his face. "Come here," he said softly and Blaine leaned forward to accept the kiss Kurt was offering. "We don't," he answered after breaking the kiss, "unless you want to."

Blaine apparently didn't because he immediately dove back into his work: covering Kurt with all kinds of blobs of cream all the way down from his breastbone, over his stomach and up to the head of his half hard cock.

The piping bag was sent down to the floor, mostly because of Blaine's impatience and Kurt could see a flash of his tongue as he dipped down to lick up the cream located on his chest.

Kurt dropped his head in his neck, enjoying the wet feeling of Blaine's tongue – leaving no inch untouched. He let his tongue swirl over his nipples, biting down softly resulting in a grumbling noise escaping Kurt's throat and continuing downward. He sucked on certain spots, like right above his belly button and a bit of cream was smeared on his cheek. Kurt was almost itching to lick it off himself but then Blaine shuffled down to take in his cock without even licking off the cream first.

"Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed, surprised at the sudden warmth around his dick that turned him completely hard inside Blaine's mouth. Blaine sucked in the cream, bobbing back and forth and released him again. His fingers curled around the shaft and with teasing licks Blaine continued. Kurt started to moan louder, grabbing Blaine's sweat-damp hair with one hand and the threads of the rug with the other. He felt like he was holding onto his life as he fell apart underneath Blaine's care, and he tightened his grip on Blaine's hair. Blaine took him in entirely again, his throat relaxing while he let his tongue swirl.

Kurt kept on whining Blaine's name and he knew he needed to stop him before it was too late. He forced Blaine up by his hair, surged forward, and smashed their mouths together. There were hints of cream mixing with their general tastes and Kurt managed to make Blaine lie down on his back with himself on top of him.

"You're excellent at that," he whispered against his lips. He had the need to tell Blaine that, even though he disliked praising Blaine – at least, he  _thought_  he didn't like giving Blaine compliments. He was still confused how different this Blaine was in private and wondered if he could be like this outside the protective walls of his apartment. But there was no time to examine that thought further, because Blaine somehow got his hands on the bottle of lube and pressed it into Kurt's hand.

Kurt kept Blaine on his back, wanting to see Blaine's face as he fucked him, and spread out Blaine's legs to settle in between them. He didn't tease him like Blaine had – as soon as Blaine relaxed under his touch, he let in a slick finger to widen him. Blaine was letting out the most delicious sounds as he fingered him open, slipping in another finger, and when he crooked his fingers up he was rewarded with a gasp as he hit his prostate. He was even more sensitive to it than Kurt was and it was making him all the more eager to hit it with his own dick.

"Kurt, Kurt – please,  _please –_ " Blaine begged, reaching out for Kurt's hair to drag him up. Kurt grabbed a condom and rolled it up his cock, lubing it thoroughly before lining up with the stretched entrance. He placed his arms sideways of his head, admiring the lustful look on Blaine's entire face. Carefully he let one hand down to guide himself inside, let out shaky breaths at the tightness surrounding his cock.

He moved slowly, languidly and lowered himself down onto Blaine's chest – face close to Blaine's ear and he nipped the earlobe gently.

" _Regarde-toi_ ," Kurt whispered and Blaine shivered all over his body. " _Magnifique_ ," he continued, "all beautiful and needy for me."

" _Kurt –_ " Blaine gasped, grabbing Kurt's hips to make him thrust faster but Kurt wasn't giving in, and rolled his hips again slowly.

"You asked me whether I speak French to my lovers, remember?" Kurt pressed a kiss on his jaw. "Are you pleased now?"

"Yes, fuck yes," Blaine said breathily, "faster, come on, please – "

"Tssk." Kurt's head shot up and he grabbed Blaine's chin to force him to look at him. "Everything goes too fast nowadays," he said and kissed him softly. "Fast food, people thinking in quantities of food instead of qualities." He thrust in again, swallowing Blaine's grunt by kissing him again. "People eat their food fast and defensively, not wanting to share goodness for their own sake. No, people should enjoy the slower things more." His nails scraped over Blaine's scalp, resulting in more delicious noises coming from him. He pulled out of him and pushed back in, hissing in pleasure.

"Kurt," Blaine said brokenly.

"Yes?" Kurt looked into his dark eyes, smiling softly while continuing to drag in.

"I – I –" Blaine bit his lip and kneaded Kurt's hips.

"What is it,  _mon cher_?" Kurt knew he wasn't going to last long anymore, despite already coming twice tonight. He quickened his pace a notch and mouthed at Blaine's jaw.

"I – you're amazing." He said it so fast that Kurt doubted he heard him correctly. He also considered that Blaine meant to say something else, but the heat started to coil up again. Blaine reached down to stroke his own cock and moments later they came – Kurt first and Blaine following shortly after.

Kurt dropped his dead weight on Blaine, dragging carefully out of him. Blaine muttered something unintelligible and seemed a bit sleep drunk. Come started to dry between them, making Kurt feel sticky.

"Let's shower," he proposed.

"Too tired." Blaine's voice was thick and sleepy.

"Shower and then bed."

"M'kay."

Kurt stood up, unrolling the condom and tied it up. He spotted a garbage bin in the kitchen.

"Help," Blaine said and held out his hand as a hint to make Kurt help him stand up. Kurt did so and threw away the condom as they passed the kitchen to get the bathroom.

Lazily they showered together, simply leaning against one other as they cleaned each other. Kurt dried them off and asked if he needed to lock anything, but Blaine mentioned everything was already done.

Blaine dropped himself onto the bed, cocooning himself into the blankets and beckoned Kurt to join him. The bed dipped under his weight and before he could even install himself in the bed, Blaine wrapped himself around him with his entire body. Kurt smiled into nothing, switching off the single light on the nightstand. They were naked, warm, and entirely spent.

He was about to fall asleep when he heard Blaine say something softly.

"Stay."

Kurt opened his eyes again and looked down, wondering if he heard him correctly.

"Stay," Blaine repeated, just as soft. "Don't leave in the morning, don't hate me, stay and let me make you breakfast. I can make you Italian coffee, which is the best, so please – stay." His voice was pleading and broken, and it was confusing Kurt more and more.

"I – I have to go to the fish market in the morning," he said, damning his logical brain for remembering that.

"Oh." Blaine loosened his grip in defeat.

"I have to go early, I'm making bouillabaisse _,_ " Kurt damned himself even more, until he found the perfect solution. "You can come with me?" Blaine looked up and even in the dark Kurt could make out the shimmer of hope in his eyes. "And after that  _I_  make  _you_  breakfast while you make me that cup of coffee."

"Hmm, what are you making me then?" Blaine asked teasingly.

"We'll see, let's sleep first."

Blaine returned to his comfortable position against Kurt, resting his head against his chest and tightening his grip around his waist again. Kurt closed his eyes and trailed his hand through Blaine's damp curls until he fell asleep, realizing he couldn't leave in the morning without Blaine even if he wanted to.

* * *

**6\. Le Café**

Kurt woke before Blaine did, being used to waking up this early every week for the fish market. His alarm clock would go in a few minutes, but until then he remained still, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Blaine was sprawled all over his chest and he felt his steady breathing against the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

A voice in his head was telling him this should feel wrong. It should feel like he caved; sleeping with the enemy and all. But it didn't feel wrong. He banned away the voice, clearing his mind and he felt like he was staring at the world in an entire new perspective.

Blaine stirred a little and smacked his lips. As if automatic, Kurt lifted his hand to dig through the curls and make Blaine calm again. It all felt entirely natural. With a sigh he closed his eyes for a minute until his phone started to blare.

With a jolt Blaine jumped up, straddling Kurt's hips without intending too and looked around the room in confusion of what was making the sudden noise.

"It's my phone," Kurt clarified with a groggy voice, gesturing to the nightstand where he placed it after the shower.

Blaine frowned and lowered himself back down onto Kurt. "Well, turn it off." Before Kurt could even try to reach for it, Blaine jerked his head up, staring at Kurt with his lips parted and some sort of shock in his eyes. Kurt sucked in a breath, unsure what was going on in Blaine's head.

"I –" he tried, and he heard his phone go onto automatic snooze. Blaine kept on staring at him until he broke his gaze to look around the room. Kurt was afraid something was wrong for a second, but then the biggest grin split Blaine's face and he tilted his head back to look at him again.

" _Buon giorno,_ " he said with a low voice and Kurt felt his blood starting to boil again. Blaine rolled his hips lazily and there was no doubt he was riding his morning wood against Kurt's hipbone. "Did you sleep well?" Blaine buried his face in Kurt's neck, pressing a few kisses against it and moved a bit so their cocks were aligned.

Kurt let out a breathy gasp, getting hard in a seconds and grabbed Blaine's sides to make him move faster.

"Can I presume that as a yes?" Blaine muttered close to his ear, nipping the ear lobe.

" _Merde_ , Blaine –" Kurt whined and after calling his name, Blaine moved even faster. They stopped talking, only exchanging moans and gasps until they both came with silent cries. Blaine dropped down, quietly chuckling against Kurt's skin.

"A good morning indeed," he said. The alarm clock started to play again, much to Blaine's apparent dismay. "Why is it going  _again_? It's too early." He tightened his grip on Kurt when he tried to reach for his phone again.

"I – I told you yesterday," he said and managed to turn it off.

"Oh," Blaine said softly, as if he just remembered. Not only the part about going to the fish market, but also the things he said before that. His eyes were big as he stared at Kurt again, trying to form words with his lips that Kurt wanted to fill in.  _Yes, I stayed_. But he didn't say it – all he could do was hope his little nod was enough to break Blaine's thoughts. Blaine seemed to have caught it and sat up, ruffling his own hair and squinting his eyes.

"I guess we should go then."

 _We_. The word swam through Kurt's head. Blaine still wanted to tag along to the smelly and dirty fish market at six in the morning and afterwards Kurt would make him breakfast.

"Y-yes," he stuttered. "Maybe we can go to my place after that? I – I have some things I could make for breakfast, and well – my shirt's kind of dirty –"

Blaine cut him off with a closed lipped kiss. The peck was short and dry – yet it was doing things with Kurt that he couldn't explain. Again, it all felt natural. Normal.

"I might have a shirt for you lying around for now?" Blaine smiled, and it was different than any kind of smiles he had ever given Kurt. It was sincere, not cocky, but truly joyous. And it was not helping Kurt to try to find the right emotions for this moment – or maybe he had already found them? Either way: he couldn't explain.

They showered again together, and Blaine only stole a kiss once in the progress. His hands, however, never stopped touching him, always grazing an arm or rib and holding a firm grip on his wrist the entire time. Almost as if he was afraid for Kurt would fly away.

Minutes later they left Blaine's apartment, the sun rising low above the city before they couldn't see it anymore as they entered the nearest subway entrance.

**xXx**

Kurt couldn't recall exactly when it happened, but one moment he was fake laughing at one of fisherman Brad's terrible jokes and the next Blaine was holding his hand. They had kept distance during the subway ride and the walk to the market at Hunts Point.

He shot one glance at Blaine, who was pretending nothing was going on and kept his attention on the surrounding stands. He felt a squeeze once as an assurance that it was okay and even though it was confusing the hell out of Kurt – he kept on holding his hand for the entire time he was placing orders.

"And they better be fresh because you remember last time as well as I do," he said with a threatening voice to another fisherman who visibly flinched a little at the memory. Kurt turned around to tell Blaine he was done, but was met with a kiss instead.

"I love it when you talk business," Blaine murmured, kissing him again. "All bossy and no nonsense, I wish I could witness you during a dinner shift, I bet it's better than reality TV."

Kurt let out a snort – wait, did Blaine Anderson just make him laugh? "Well, uh, breakfast?" he proposed to disguise his confusion.

Blaine beamed a little, flashing his teeth again in a smile. "What's on the menu, chef?"

They started to walk hand in hand.

"You'll see."

"As long as it's the chef's special."

Kurt glanced at him, feeling his breath hitch when Blaine was staring at him with that admiration he had also seen last night at the elevator. First he had filed it off as lust – but now… now it seemed more.

 _What are we doing?_  The question was stinging on his tongue, wanting to come out. Yet Kurt didn't let it slip. This moment, today and last night, was more perfect than his life had been in  _years_. Except it started to be more than the sex. He didn't even had the urge to bicker at Blaine anymore, not like he used to – only in a teasing way.  _What are we doing?_

He kept his mouth shut, traveling to his apartment while he kept his mind busy by trying to figure out what he was going to make for breakfast.

After entering he excused himself to change out of Blaine's shirt and his dirty pants into clean clothes. With regret he folded the shirt, which was ridiculous because it didn't even smell like Blaine – it smelled like fabric softener. Still, it was a piece of Blaine – last night's Blaine, this morning's Blaine.

He walked back to his kitchen, rolling up his sleeves when he spotted Blaine going through several cabinets almost frantically.

"What are you doing?" he asked and Blaine jumped up, turning to lean against the counter while catching his breath.

"I was trying to surprise you with coffee," he answered, honest audible in his voice, "but I couldn't find any beans."

Kurt's lips twitched into a smile, walking toward him and opened a lower cabinet to fetch the coffee beans.

"Right," Blaine said and accepted them. There was a blush down his neck and he almost tripped while shuffling to the coffee maker. "Can I – can I share your station?" He looked at the counter and up to Kurt with one mouth corner curling up into a grin.

Kurt didn't even consider not going up to him for a kiss, letting his lips linger for a little longer until his stomach growled in hunger.

"Yes, yes you may," he answered before going back to the other side. He didn't miss Blaine's hushed 'Finally', and smiled even more. Kurt started to whip out ingredients and thanked God he still had strawberries in his fridge because they came in handy. He was in the middle of making batter when something other than the sound of coffee machine grinding beans filled the kitchen. Looking up he realized that Blaine was singing, soft and Kurt could only make out one sentence.

" _I only live for you. Anema e core…_ " Blaine continued to whistle the song and never in his life did Kurt want to know what song it was and why he was singing it. He got lost in thought while blindly resuming his task and didn't even notice the coffee maker going silent until two firm arms hugged him from behind. Blaine pressed his face against his left shoulder blade and let out a hum.

"Can I do something?" he asked. "Coffee's ready when you are."

Kurt tried to think but failed miserably as Blaine let his hands skim over his clothed chest. "Uhm," he started and ignored the way Blaine's fingers were dipping into the waistband of his pants. "I guess you can start on the cream cheese."

Blaine slumped against his back, pulling his hands back to do the task. "What do you need me to do with it?" He took the pack of cream cheese and looked down at it. His eyes then went up to the strawberries and the batter, making his eyebrows lift and his mouth turn into a 'o'. "Oh, I see –" he said with his usual cocky voice, "Strawberry cheese… crêpes?" he guessed.

Kurt only pursed his lips as an answer, something Blaine interpreted as a request for a kiss and complied almost immediately.

"So, I kind of realized I still owe you tiramisu," Blaine said while he started to mix the cream cheese with some sugar and cottage cheese.

"You do." Kurt reached for the serving spoon the same time Blaine did and resulted in a tiny playful battle that Kurt won.

"Well, maybe I can make some more today… and then I pick you up tonight and we can go to my apartment again?" Blaine was stammering and blushing, incoherently blending the ingredients together and Kurt found it utterly adoring. Without any kind of hesitation he answered yes and Blaine snapped up.

"Yes?"

"Yes," he repeated, checking if the pan was hot enough before lowering batter into it. He looked up at the clock decorating his wall, seeing it was close to eleven. "Don't you have a lunch shift?"

Blaine also eyed at the clock, sucking in his cheeks before answering: "Wes can handle it."

Kurt wasn't sure how to reply to that and flipped his first crêpe. Together they continued to complete their breakfast and Kurt realized they actually were pretty in sync during the entire progress. Kurt placed the crêpe, Blaine spread the cream cheese mixture with strawberries and together they folded it until there were two perfect plates of strawberry cheese crêpes.

Usually Kurt ate at the table while writing down notes about it but Blaine had already ushered him to the couch, pushing him down before sitting close next to him. Before he had even separated his first piece, a fork with a little bit of everything was presented to him. He looked at Blaine who smiled encouraging. With a soft blush on his cheeks he opened his mouth and let Blaine feed him.

He dropped his head back to take in the flavors before turning back to find Blaine even closer than he was before. Blaine's eyes downcast to his lips as he licked his own eagerly.

"More strawberries?" he asked.

"More strawberries," Kurt answered before leaning forward to kiss him.

**xXx**

"No, I have to go inside," Kurt said giggling, trying to escape from the embrace he was currently in. They were standing in front of the backdoors of La Vedette and he really needed to get to inside before Santana arrivedive on her bike.

"One more minute," Blaine said, breaking his task of sucking on a particular spot on Kurt's neck for a second.

"No," Kurt said again, pushing more firmer this time but still gentle. "You need to go too."

Blaine sighed overdramatically and stepped away, sending him a pout. "I'll see you here when you're done?"

"Yes," Kurt answered breathless. He watched Blaine walk away, who was looking over his shoulder occasionally to see if he was still there and he was. He waited until he was completely gone out of his sight and then swiftly turned around to go back into the kitchen where he had completely new memories of since yesterday.

Inside he found Quinn writing down a few things, probably about tonight's menu and slightly too cheerily Kurt greeted her.

"Hey, chef," Quinn said with a mischievous tone in her voice.

"Any news of the others?" He hung up his coat, checking his hair in the mirror close by the changing rooms.

"Puck's already here, I think he's waiting for you."

Kurt straightened his back. In all the events of yesterday, last night and this morning he completely forgot he was still in cahoots with Puck about truffles. "Oh, he probably has questions about his paycheck – I'll just –" He wanted to walk straight to the restaurant but Quinn was blocking his way with her arms crossed. "Yes?" he asked with the most commanding voice he could manage – something that never worked on Quinn somehow.

"So I arrived at the kitchen earlier today, thinking I might find you already, but apparently not." She started to come closer and Kurt resisted the urge to walk back. "And when I came in… I found a whole bunch of things…  _on the floor_."

Kurt tried to be as surprised as possible when he asked: "What?"

"Hmm? Oh, I don't know. Leek, carrots…  _two chopping boards_ …  _two_   _knives…_ "

He swallowed loudly, remembering the cook off and the way Blaine threw everything on the floor to place him on the counter.

"Something tells me you were not alone last night," Quinn ended and gave him the most bitchy look he had ever gotten from her.

The backdoors swung open, making them both turn to look and Santana stepped inside in her motor suit as usual. "Hey," she greeted awkwardly, picking up the strange vibe that lingered in the air. "What's going on?"

"Kurt's not telling something," Quinn filled in.

Santana joined her as quickly as possible, her motor jacket still halfway down her arms. "Oh?"

"Yes, and I was just trying to get it out of him."

"Interesting."

"Girls," Kurt said, "We have little time before the rest of staff comes and –"

"Well, there's a solution for that. You, us, drinks tonight." Quinn placed her arms in her sides.

"I – I can't," he murmured, knowing he was turning red.

'Why not - ?"

"Chef?" someone at the doors to the restaurant called and Puck was standing there nervously. "Can I speak with you?"

"Yes!" Kurt squeaked, blessing whatever brought up to Puck to disturb them and he launched himself through Santana and Quinn.

"This ain't over Kurt!" Santana yelled behind him with a few other words that got muffled by the doors he went through.

He looked around the restaurant once to make sure there was no one else there and turned to Puck.

"What is it?"

" _He_  can meet us," Puck whispered and Kurt's eyes grew wide.

"When?"

"Day after tomorrow, in the morning."

"Good," Kurt muttered back, eyes lingering to the window and to the restaurant across the street. He inhaled deeply, seeing Blaine march through the restaurant area of Cannareccione and suddenly wondered if illegally importing truffles wasn't such a good idea after all.

**xXx**

Kurt hummed in delight, letting Blaine feed him again – only this time his own made tiramisu. They forwent the rug this time and lounged on Blaine's bed instead. Blaine had already lost his shirt because he spilt sauce on it after, and he quoted Wes, 'Dancing like an idiot'.

Not that Kurt minded. He absolutely loved his view of half naked Blaine on his side, resting his head on his hand while he went down to scoop up some more dessert from the tray.

"Don't you want some yourself?" he asked after he realized Blaine fed him already a quarter of the amount of tiramisu.

"I have had enough tiramisu in my life to feed the entirety of New York," he said. " _You_ , on the other hand, have some catching up to do."

Kurt chuckled and accepted another bite. "You're just overdosing me so you can kill off the competition." It slipped by accident, but it made Blaine freeze and drop the fork into the tray.

"Kurt," he whispered, looking back up to him. "I –" Before he could finish the sentence, Kurt kissed him vividly. He didn't want to know, not yet – not now. He was scared, so scared it would break the moment forever.

"Blaine," he said against his lips, grabbing his hands and placed them above his head while rolling half onto him. The tray of tiramisu wobbled dangerously between them and Kurt didn't care as he straddled him. He let his eyes wander over the tanned skin that was wrapped around the gorgeous torso. Slowly he lowered, kissing down his jaw and neck, giving out a lick from time to time.

Blaine let out a choking noise when he teasingly bit his nipple. "Kurt!"

"Hmm?"

"Kiss me," he whispered with a whine and Kurt surged up immediately to kiss him hard and needy. Blaine opened up his mouth quickly to let in his tongue and hummed approvingly when their tastes collided. Blaine tasted faintly like cream and sugar, and it was absolutely addictive.

Blaine's fingers started to undo his shirt, demanding him to join him into his half nakedness and Kurt complied by helping. Both their pants disappeared shortly after. Kurt was already going down even though Blaine's briefs were still dangling around his ankles. With a grin he looked up at Blaine who was panting and sweating before taking his hardness into his hand and giving tiny licks to the head.

Blaine hit his head hard on the head board while swearing loudly in both English and Italian, and Kurt continued to lick him until he took him in as far as he could.

Somehow Blaine managed to kick off his briefs and threw his legs around Kurt's back to keep him captivated. Kurt felt fingers dig through his hair, pushing down gently to set the pace and continued to suck him faster. He hallowed his cheeks, humming low, resulting into Blaine whining and moaning deliciously.

"Shit Kurt, if you don't stop –  _ah!_ "

Kurt knew Blaine was getting close, before they even made it into bed they had been making out the entire way to it. He didn't want to stop – he wanted to make Blaine come just by his mouth and hummed again. With his hand he started to stroke at the base of his cock, his grip tight and with one look up to Blaine's face, he knew Blaine figured out he didn't want to stop.

"You'll be the death of me," he murmured.

Kurt's mouth corners wanted to twitch up into a smile but he was a little too busy for that. It took merely minutes before Blaine's legs tightened around him and he threw his head back as far as he could. It was the only warning Kurt got before he felt warm come fill his mouth. He stroked him through it, taking in every drop before Blaine fell back completely spent.

Kurt sat up between his legs, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Ugh," was all that Blaine said, watching him.

All he could do was smile, crawling up to lie on top of him and he felt his own cock asking for some kind of friction, but deciding to ignore it.

"Let's sleep," Kurt said, hiding his face in the crook of Blaine's neck, "I didn't get much last night."

"But –"

"Sleep."

"Okay?" Blaine sounded confused and hugged him close. "Anything you want."

Kurt froze for a second before relaxing again. He wasn't even sure what he wanted anymore.

**xXx**

The next couple of days continued in the same fashion. Kurt worked, and afterwards he went home with Blaine or the other way around. Friday morning he met up with the truffles dealer, who was more of a boy than a man. It even turned out to be Puck's younger half-brother, something that made Kurt's concern about the entire situation grow even more. The truffles he offered, however, were of excellent quality and Kurt knew he'd be a fool to not buy them for that price.

There was a hollow feeling in his stomach for the rest of the day as he went through his usual errands. He couldn't wait for Blaine to pick him up and go to his apartment.

That night they had sex again, except instead of the fast pace Blaine liked so much, he went slow, dragging out the entire moment and Kurt was loving it. He kept on kissing him passionately, wishing the hollow feeling would fade for good and he was grateful Blaine's thrusts were helping in that.

But in the morning – the hollow feeling was even worse.

"You're already dressed," Blaine observed when he exited the bedroom. Kurt had already been up for a good half an hour and was staring down at the poached eggs he was making. He glanced over his shoulder to see Blaine in briefs and couldn't blame him for being surprised that Kurt was already in a full outfit – including shoes.

Kurt didn't answer and turned back. The water in the pan was over boiling but he couldn't get his hands to work on it. He was leaning with his hands on the counter, arms wide apart and simply staring at the eggs getting ruined.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked and he was closer now.

"What are we doing?" The question was finally out. The hollow feeling in his stomach faded a little, as if part of the heaviness was released by telling what had been on his chest for a while.

"I – Kurt?" Blaine appeared next to him, looking small and vulnerable without his clothes but also because of the look on his face. It was as if he was holding on to something small and it was slowly breaking.

"What are we doing? We – we hate each other, why – how?"

"Kurt," Blaine said and took his hand, "I – I told you there's a fine line between love and hate, I just –"

"No! No!" Kurt broke free from his grip and stepped away, seeing the pan boil over from the corner of his eye but neither of them seemed to care. "You – you were the most annoying thing on earth during school and even now also! And suddenly we kiss and you turn into an entirely different person! What gives, Blaine?" He was shouting, still creating distance between him and Blaine and his chest was heaving with the heavy way he was breathing. "I don't understand."

Blaine slumped in defeat of trying to get him close again, staring down with his face scrunched into the saddest expression he had ever seen on him.

"Kurt, the truth is" he said, looking up with watery eyes, "I love you."

A silence fell. All that was heard, muffled in the background, was the still prattling pan, but Kurt was more concerned about the fact he could  _hear_  his heartbeat.

"You – what?"

Blaine nervously fidgeted with his fingers, trying to look everywhere and nowhere.

"I – I love you," he said again, "I've been trying to find the right moment to tell you that for a couple of days now but… somehow there was no right moment.

"But if you –" Kurt spluttered. "And during school –"

"Oh Kurt, I saw you before we met." Blaine took a tentative step forward. "That first week of school, you stood out so much and you never noticed me, but you were the most beautiful man I had ever seen and I needed a way to talk to you. We had all these classes together but you were somehow so… unreachable. So I got to class earlier because you always seemed to already be there, and I – I took a chance."

"You annoyed me  _and_  humiliated me in front of the teacher," Kurt spat.

"I never meant that to happen!" Blaine said loud. "I was just trying to impress you. And then I figured out that the only way you would notice me was if I were arrogant and annoying. Just until you would agree to go out with me so you could get to know me for real, like what happened this week!" He smiled hesitantly. "The way you looked at me this week, I had only dreamed about that." He swallowed.

"What about France?" Kurt shot back.

"I never,  _never_ , wanted that internship!" Blaine's eyes were wide, clasping his hands together and held them against his heart. "I knew how much it meant to you, and even though it killed me to know I only had a few weeks to try to turn things around, I never wanted it. Chef Johnson – he, he thought I forgot to sign myself up so he did it for me."

Kurt felt lightheaded and remembered to breathe. "You –"

"I denied it as fast as I could, Kurt, but the news was already out. I never wanted to hurt you like that."

"But you did," Kurt whispered, "Not only then but the entirety of school, and last week when you suddenly showed up – I, I just –"

"I came as fast as I could after reading your raving reviews," Blaine smiled and there was a hint of guilt in it, "I was almost jealous that people got to taste your food before I could. Actually, I was pretty jealous."

"Then why were you telling me all of the things that were wrong about the dish! Why step back into your old -"

"It was a habit!" Blaine looked broken now. "I couldn't resist getting one more mean look of you before trying to fix it all together. I just couldn't resist. It was stupid, I know, but me – the real me, the one you've seen the past couple of days. That's me, Kurt." He stepped forward, dropping his hand in defeat when Kurt stepped back. "All I want is a chance."

"A chance for what?" Kurt felt a lump in his throat that he somehow couldn't swallow away.

"A chance to start over. You and me, as friends, lovers – more. I love you, Kurt. I always did. And I never stopped."

Kurt was drowning. There were tears pooling in his eyes and he didn't even get to try to stop them. His heart was contracting and the possibilities of everything Blaine said were racing through his mind. He felt hurt, and somehow betrayed, but also touched – Blaine wanted him to have the internship to France. The thing he really wanted. But what does he want now?

"I need –" he said, close to hyperventilating. "Space. I need space."

"Please, please –" Blaine held out his hand, begging Kurt to take it and sit down with him, but Kurt was backing out, ready to flee out of the door. "Please stay."

"I can't," he whispered, and grabbed his jacket before leaving as fast as he could, leaving an almost naked and broken Blaine behind.

**xXx**

Kurt didn't go to his own apartment after leaving. Instead he went straight to La Vedette, unlocking the front door because he wanted to get inside as quick as possible. The door slammed behind him and he was on his way to the kitchen when he heard the door slam shut again.

"We're not open –" he said, turning around to expect a lost customer that came inside, but instead finding Sebastian Smythe strolling inside, taking in the restaurant with an arrogant smirk.

"Chef Hummel," he acknowledged him. "Nice to find you here."

"Get out," Kurt simply said.

Sebastian chuckled low, stepping only further into the restaurant. "Not until we have a little chat."

"I have nothing to discuss with you, get the hell out of my restaurant."

"Then I'll do the talking," he said and crossed his arms. "Your restaurant, you say? Not for long."

Kurt felt the hollow feeling in his stomach return. "What are you talking about?"

Sebastian smiled like he knew something Kurt did not, and it was eating Kurt.

"Well, I'm actually here with an offer. Soon I have a new restaurant opening in Columbus, Ohio. I'm still in desperate need of a chef  _and_  manager, and I wondered if I could tempt you with this position. You'll be closer to home too."

"I have no interest in leaving New York, thank you." Kurt said resolutely, wondering why the hell Sebastian was offering him this.

Sebastian pursed his lips. "That was the only good part of this chat, I must confess, I suggest you accept it."

"Or what else?"

"I want this restaurant, chef Hummel." He stepped closer and Kurt didn't move. "I want it bad, and the main reason it's still running, is because of you. So the simple solution? Sell you out."

"I can't be bought."

"Then I'll need to take more drastic measure then." Sebastian's eyes were shimmering with mischief. "I mean, the media would  _love_  to know La Vedette buys illegal truffles."

Kurt didn't bat an eye, but inside he was a mess. His heart was beating loud and fast, and the hollow feeling in his stomach was about to explode.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he answered with a poker face.

"Oh please, I know everything about your little deal." Sebastian shook his head. "It'll be a quick end, but I prefer to see La Vedette die slower without you."

"We can handle a little rumor. I'm not going anywhere." Kurt straightened his back. Still Sebastian didn't look defeated. Instead he glanced out the window to his own restaurant.

"And what if I report Blaine instead?" he said softer, almost whispering.

Kurt raised an eyebrow to keep it cool, but even the mention of Blaine – Blaine that loved him, Blaine that gave up France as soon as he could – made him nervous. "I doubt Blaine deals in truffles, not to mention he works in  _your restaurant_."

Sebastian waved it away. "I never wanted that cavern, I just agreed so I could approach the death of La Vedette easier. I don't give one crap about Blaine and his cooking techniques, please. And no, not truffles – but maybe… I mean, someone mentioned some hygienic issues earlier." Kurt felt his heart drop. "A health inspector would  _love_  such drama, don't you think? Blaine wouldn't get a job afterwards  _anywhere_ , I hope the person that mentioned it can live with that…" Sebastian smiled devilish when Kurt started to tremble.

"You wouldn't dare –"

"I would. Immediately if necessary, so the choice is with you, chef Hummel. Quit your job and take my offer – or Blaine never gets to see the inside of any restaurant ever again."

* * *

**7\. Le Digestif**

Sebastian left La Vedette, but only after placing a yellow envelope on one of the tables. Kurt stared at it for minutes, wondering what it held – and mostly fearing the contents. He snatched it from the table and resolutely turned around to hide in the empty kitchen. It was still early, and he could barely believe all the things that had already happened today. Blaine loved him – of course Kurt always suspected that he had some kind of  _appeal_  toward him with the endless asking and teasing. Strictly lust, he presumed.

But love.

Love was something else.

It meant…  _more_.

More smiling, more holding hands – more everything. And apparently Blaine wanted that  _with him_. It meant cooking for Blaine, and for Blaine alone and vice versa. There was a time when Kurt listed spending every single minute with Blaine as his least favorite thing ever; he'd rather eat an entire habanero pepper. Except now Kurt wasn't sure what he wanted anymore – oh,  _fuck it_ , Kurt realized what he wanted not so long ago. Right when Sebastian mentioned Blaine, the realization hit him like a truck: he wanted more, and he wanted it with Blaine.

The envelope crackled between his fingers from holding it too tight, tearing Kurt away from his thoughts and back into the kitchen.  _His_ kitchen. The place he worked and created in looked cold now. All he saw was Blaine enter through the back doors, smirking at him arrogantly like he had a few days ago. He wasn't there though, but Kurt kept on seeing him – blabbering something obnoxious that didn't bother Kurt anymore, and playing around with utensils Kurt wanted him to stop touching – or continue to: he wasn't really sure.

The kitchen seemed bleak without Blaine. He wanted to share his station with him and push Blaine back to his space because he kept on stealing kisses instead of working.

Oh God.

Kurt was in love, wasn't he?

Made-up Blaine looked up from the stoves, smiling broadly when he saw Kurt and nodded at the envelope as if he was asking what it was. As soon as Kurt looked down to it, the Blaine he had imagined vanished and Kurt missed him already.

With shaking fingers he opened the envelope, emptying its contents on one of the counters and seeing photos of himself. He closed his eyes immediately, knowing exactly of what those were from – the morning he bought the truffles together with Puck. He had no clue how Sebastian found them or even took them without them noticing, but it was proof enough for an investigation. Still, this was something Kurt could take. There were hundreds of ways of getting out of the accusations, but when Sebastian threw in Blaine he crossed bounds Kurt couldn't reach. Usually if a health inspector takes notice of risky business he sends out a warning. Only Kurt had a feeling that was stirring deep within him that Sebastian could do a lot more than just a warning. A lot worse too.

He opened his eyes again, pushing the pictures away for him to burn later and found an airplane voucher, a ticket for a rental car and the directions toward Sebastian's new restaurant in Columbus. Not only did he want Kurt to stop working at La Vedette – he wanted him completely out of New York. Away from helping his friends and away from Blaine.

His heart was pounding loudly. He took out another item from the pile which was a contract, ready to be signed. A new job, different town and different kitchen.

Again he let his eyes wander around La Vedette's kitchen. It still looked bleak. A little voice in his head was telling him that he could do other things than remain underneath Rachel's dictator-like reign – start his own restaurant or travel again. He had been working in and out of restaurants ever since he returned from Paris and hasn't done anything relatively adventurous since. Unless he counted Blaine. And he did.

**xXx**

"What's that smell?" Quinn asked after arriving at the restaurant. She shrugged of her coat while scrunching her nose. "You haven't been trying to  _fry_  escargots again, have you? I mean creativity and all but –" Her voice faltered away at seeing the scene.

Kurt was standing in the middle of the kitchen, not dressed in his chef whites even though she was positive Kurt slept in them, and seemed to be turning off one of the stoves which was also the source of the strange smell. He paid no attention to her, only to the floor and it was until she mentioned his name she met with two rather broken looking eyes.

"Quinnie," he said softly.

"Is it time for cooler confessions? Because you have to let me take out the quails first." Quinn tried to keep it light with a little humor in her voice, but her hope was crushed the second Kurt shook his head.

"No." He looked away, crossing his arms and something crackled in his jacket. She took a step closer to him.

"Kurt, what's wrong?"

"You know," he said, ignoring her question, "I think you'd be a great chef."

"What are you talking about? You're the chef."

Kurt turned his head up and bit his lower lip as if he was holding back tears. That was when Quinn realized something was even more wrong than she had anticipated.

"What happened?"

"You'll be perfectly capable of running the kitchen by yourself, you can pick a sous – but I would appreciate it if you'd pick Santana. She deserves so much more –"

"Kurt, what the hell are you talking about?"

"And you're the perfect sergeant to fight the war against all the other restaurants –"

"That's not my war," Quinn snapped and Kurt finally looked at her straight. She grabbed his arms and squeezed them. "I only intend to fight wars at your side, now tell me – what is going on? Why are you talking like you got fired or –"

Kurt swallowed, his eyes now filled with sheer fright. Quinn shook her head.

"No –  _no_!" She started to shake him too. "Tell me you're not thinking about –  _quitting_? Are you insane? You're – you're letting that bastard win? Did he do something? Did he – did he use you?"

"What are you talking about? Who - ?" Kurt frowned in confusion, wondering how much Quinn knew.

"That Blaine guy! Don't you dare play dumb with me, Hummel, I know a sex scene when I see one and I only know one guy that you talked about lately  _and_  who can cook – so tell me what he said!" She was practically fuming, feeling like she was losing one of her friends and was refusing to accept that.

"Blaine did nothing! He has nothing to do –" His voice faltered. Even though it wasn't Blaine forcing him out of his restaurant, he still had everything to do with it. "Blaine didn't do anything, I swear," he said much calmer.

"Then who did! You can't be quitting on your own," Quinn said, taking in a sharp breath, "can you?"

Kurt forced himself to shrug. "It's my decision."

"But is it your choice?" she countered. "This is your work, your life – why give that up because of someone? Hasn't he hurt you enough? With Paris and everything you said about school –"

"He never –" Before he got the chance to finish his sentence, the back door swooshed open and a rather deranged looking Blaine entered. He locked eyes with Kurt, and it took a simple gasp from Kurt for Quinn to realize who this was.

"Get out!" she said in a tone Kurt had never heard before. This was why she would be his perfect replacement.

"Kurt, please, talk to me –" said Blaine.

"I said -  _Get. Out,"_  she hissed between her teeth and stepped defensively between Kurt and Blaine before he could get any closer.

"We can't leave it there," Blaine stubbornly continued. He looked rushed, crazy with his hair going all the wrong ways and nothing more in the world did Kurt want to wrap him in a hug. Quinn stepped forward to kick him out herself, screeching all kinds of things Kurt didn't hear because all he saw was Blaine.

Blaine who actually ran after him and dared to go into the kitchen while he knew some of the staff would already be there. Blaine who could risk a permanent ban from any restaurant kitchen if Kurt didn't quit his job.

He stayed frozen on the spot, hearing Blaine's last pleads as Quinn locked him out and didn't move until Quinn was back unbuttoning his jacket.

"You should change into your whites," she said as if nothing happened.

"Quinn."

"We have a busy night ahead."

He grabbed her wrist to stop her and forced her to look up.

"It's going to be my choice," he assured.

"And when you make it, I'll hear it." Her voice was thick. "But I need you to stay."

"Why?" Kurt asked as calm as he could. "You're perfectly capable of handling this kitchen, not to mention Rachel."

"I know that, but –" Her lips quivered, and Kurt wasn't sure whether she wanted to cry or smile. Or both. "But you're the star of this restaurant. And we need a star in the spotlight."

"You have no idea what's at stake," he whispered.

"Then tell me Kurt – what exactly is at stake?"

 _Everything_ , he wanted to say but didn't. He looked away.

"Fine," Quinn said. "Just cook with me tonight. Don't decide before tonight. It's review season, people are picking restaurants for Christmas. We need you. I need you."

"Just tonight?" he asked and she didn't answer. She didn't want to know. He let her take off his jacket and usher him into the changing rooms to change into his spare whites. From his spot he could hear more people arrive – both kitchen and restaurant staff and felt like he was going to his own funeral.

His heart was beating loudly in his chest as he returned to the kitchen, feeling everyone stare at him. Not that he could blame them – the past days he had been happy and cheery and now he was looking like death.

Slowly he turned to look at Quinn, who was plating up the last few things for tastings and realized she did everything herself today. All he did was mention a few things for the menu yesterday and she filled in the rest. She didn't need him, even though she thought she did.

He slipped a hand into his pocket, reaching for his phone. Blaine didn't have his number nor did Kurt had his and it was safe to say he didn't want to know what Blaine would have done if they had switched numbers. He scrolled through his contacts and stopped at his dad's number – he for sure knew what to do or give him advice that would calm him. Except his dad probably only remembered Blaine from all those late night phone calls in which Kurt only expressed his dismay toward him.

"This just arrived," Santana suddenly said and broke his string of thoughts. He looked down at the yellow envelope with his name on – a very similar envelope to the one that was hidden deep in his jacket.

"Thank you, Santana."

She eyed him oddly. Her intuition was one of the most impeccable ones he had ever encountered and he simply nodded to assure it was fine, even though it wasn't. With the envelope tucked against his chest he turned back to the changing rooms. He almost went to the cooler again, but if that envelope consisted of what Kurt thought it did – it needed to be destroyed.

As soon as the door closed behind him he opened the envelope, having a strange déjà vu moment of earlier that day and only found a simple white page with an e-mail inside. He didn't even have to read beyond the first sentence where it was told that it had come to attention Chef Blaine Anderson was a neglecting chef. It would be a red mark on his reputation forever, and so easily sent around to all the important people.

There was nothing else in the envelope – no sign of Sebastian he could use to report his blackmail. Kurt was officially backed into a corner, but for apparent reason he still wasn't deep enough as he could hear the doors to the kitchen swing open and there were tapping heels approaching.

"Kurt!" Rachel yelled.

He took his time, placing his clothes into a bag and hiding the second envelope with the first in his jacket. Rachel called for him again, and with his jacket in one hand and his bag in his other, he walked back into the kitchen with his head held high.

Rachel spotted him at once. She had, not so surprisingly, a yellow envelope in her hand and Kurt could only guess she just received some revealing photos.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded to know, holding up the exact pictures he burned not long ago.

He gave one last look at her and the pictures before straightening his back and clearing his throat.

"People!" he said loud and authoritative.

"Kurt," Rachel hissed, but he ignored her and waited until everybody stopped with what they were doing. There was a quiet moment where only a few sizzling pans were heard in the background, and he stretched out the moment a little longer. He looked around the faces he yelled at, praised and mentored. Quinn stared at him with big doe eyes, knowing already what was coming and shook her head a little.

"Kurt," Rachel said again, "a moment? Private?"

"No," he told her and turned to the group after taking a deep breath. "It has come to my attention that there are a lot of factors needed to make a spotlight burn and a star shine. And that mostly has to do you with you. All of you. And –" He bit on the inside of his cheek. "And it defines a star when he knows when to bow and let the light turn to others."

Everybody stared at him god smacked. Kurt never gave sudden speeches and especially not so close to serving time.

"Kurt," Rachel said with a shrill in her voice, "what are you talking about?"

 _This is for Paris, Blaine, this is my Paris I never wanted and something you deserve more,_ he thought before opening his mouth and letting the worlds escape that would change his course of life forever. "I quit."

He expected a pandemonium, pan droppings and screams, but instead there was silence. Only surprised and shocked faces were gaping at him and from the corner of his eye he saw Santana grab Quinn's hand in comfort.

"You  _what_?" Rachel then broke the silence.

Kurt bit his tongue – he couldn't believe he was going to say it again.

"I quit. Quinn, the kitchen is yours."

"You can't quit!" Rachel poked him hard. "I have no reason to fire you!"

"You have it in your hands," Kurt reminded her.

"This?" She held up the pictures. "Nothing we can't handle, I mean – he could be your –"

Kurt tuned her out, feeling his muscles ache and his body was vibrating with tension. She was still making up excuses for the pictures, even though it was clearly seen he was weighing truffles. A thought suddenly popped up in his head, and he didn't even hesitate before looking Rachel fair and square in the eye.

"I had sex in this kitchen." Gasps were audible everywhere, but Kurt didn't even flinch. "There," he added and pointed at the place where he and Blaine shared their first kiss.

The last thing he heard were a few shrieks, catcalls and Rachel Berry screaming he was fired as he resolutely left the kitchen in a determined fashion. He knew he had to leave through the front door, entering the restaurant area that officially wasn't his workplace anymore.

The New York noises welcomed him while stepping outside, clutching his bag and jacket tightly. He stopped for a second and stared at Cannareccione across the street. A little bubble inside of him hoped he would find Blaine walking around and seeing him, but of course only Sebastian was standing smugly behind the largest window with his arms crossed.

Kurt didn't spare him one more glance, walking away as quickly as possible. A few blocks later he managed to retrieve his phone from his jacket and dialed the number he had been willing to dial that afternoon.

"Hey dad," he said when he heard him pick up. "I'm coming home for a little while. I'm pretty sure you need my food more than the hungry inhabitants of New York."

His dad rattled something in his ear, but Kurt only focused on his own thoughts and walking. He had no idea what he had just done. All he knew that it felt strangely right.

**xXx**

**Seven weeks later**

"So Kurt, how is everything going?"

Kurt looked up from the plates he was decorating, freezing in the middle of placing crushed walnuts onto the side dishes and found his new boss staring at him with a heartwarming grin. He still hadn't gotten used to the charms of the manager of Merel, the restaurant he was currently working at as a sous chef in Boston - of all places.

He had stayed home in Lima for two weeks, fussing about his dad and feeding him his favorite versions of stress food. His dad had let it all pass by, waiting patiently until Kurt cracked and spilled everything. Kurt even told him he loved Blaine, and his dad simply replied that that was crystal clear.

People from La Vedette had tried to contact him, which resulted into a three hour during phone call between him and Quinn, him telling almost everything she needed to know and made her promise she would give him space after that. He still tracked everything going on at Restaurant Row, hearing nothing bad about both La Vedette or Cannareccione, meaning they were still battling fiercely even without him. It was good, everything was good. Kurt got the offer to work in Boston and after telling the owner his wishes and needs, it was granted without any hesitation. He was not to stay there forever, everybody working in the restaurant knew that and frankly he wanted to be left alone as much as possible. If it wasn't for his constant urge to cook; he wouldn't be working at all.

There was also this other factor that made him agree to work at Merel – which was the manager that interrupted him just now. Kurt could easily say that the man in question successfully persuaded him on working there with a simple smile.

"Yes, sir?" Kurt asked hesitantly, forgetting the question.

"Stop it with the sir, I don't call you chef either."

"Yes, yes, of course, sorry, so – Cooper," he amended.

"How is everything going?" Cooper repeated, flashing him a grin.

"Excellent, like I said before – working here is a delight. So is working with chef Tina." He side eyed his executive chef, not envying her position at all because she was in the middle of throwing a tantrum.

Cooper followed his gaze and flinched a little. "Yes well, he had it coming," he said and Kurt didn't even want to defend that because Jacob Israel really had it coming. "Anyway, I need you."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up, setting his ingredients aside. "Need me how?"

"I have a customer who wants to compliment the sous," Cooper said playfully. His eyes were sparkling with amusement, but Kurt felt his heart drop.

"I'm pretty sure the guest can wait until chef Tina can receive said compliment."

"No, no, you missed a critical part there – he wishes to compliment the  _sous_." Cooper stepped around the counter, ignoring Kurt's stiff posture and started to undo his apron. "So, you go out there and receive the compliment yourself." Kurt started to move again when the apron was gone, reaching out to look at Cooper pleadingly.

"I really don't want to."

"Oh, come on."

Cooper started to usher him out of the small kitchen, ignoring all of his pleads.

"I seriously suck at customer one on one, for real –" He was pushed into the restaurant area where it was loud and cheery during the lunch shift. People were already eyeing him curiously and Kurt just wanted to disappear. "Really, Cooper, the last time I did this I threatened to poison one – I –" He was swiftly turned around to face one of the tables and his heart stopped before it went into a soft and soothing slumber.

The customer wanting to compliment him turned out to be the same he had threatened to poison.

Blaine stared at him frightened, his lips parting ever so slightly at seeing him after all these weeks. There was a lot wrong, Kurt noticed. One – Blaine was sitting at an empty table without any food he could have complimented. And two – the table was set for two.

"Hi," he said, and  _oh yeah hi – smooth_.

"Hey," Blaine said, staring at him most adoringly. "Will you –" he paused, "will you have lunch with me?" He asked it carefully.

"I – I have to work," Kurt tried to say, but then the sound of bottle being popped behind him made him jump and he turned around to find Cooper unscrewing a bottle of white wine.

"Pretend I'm not here," he said solemnly.

"Ignore my brother, he's ridiculous," Blaine said and Kurt swiftly turned back to him, mouthing 'brother'. "Yes, although DNA is still pending." Blaine smiled a little, fidgeting with his fingers and looking at the empty space across the table. "You still haven't given me an answer."

Kurt glanced once at Cooper, who nodded encouraging and of course he would – he was Blaine's  _brother_. He sucked in a sharp breath and sat down across Blaine, who wasn't doing so well on the nerves either. It was awkward at first, of course it was – what do you do when the man you love asks you all of a sudden to have lunch with him after quitting your job to save him in the first place?

Blaine swallowed, loud and clear.

"Y-you – you'll have lunch with me?"

"Yes, Blaine, otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here," Kurt said quietly, feeling a blush creep up his neck. Blaine didn't answer. Instead he started to search through a bag that was next to him and got out a book Kurt hadn't seen for years.

Hesitating a little, Blaine slid Kurt's old copy of  _Mastering the Art of Professional Cooking_ across the table so it was within Kurt's reach.

"Thanks," Blaine said awkwardly. "For letting me borrow it. Sorry it took such a long time to return, I kind of suck. Also ignore the little doodles and notes I may have…" His voice faltered when Kurt opened the book to find a heart drawn on the first page together with Kurt + Blaine underneath. "So, yes, sorry."

"Thank you," Kurt simply said and shut the book again before shoving it to the side. Cooper filled their glasses with wine to create a tiny pause between conversations. Kurt had no idea what to do or what to say and secretly hoped Blaine would break the silence, which he did.

"I know," he said and Kurt looked at him questioning. "About what you did." He placed his elbow on the table and rested his head against it. "It wasn't hard to miss when a Latina woman barges into your kitchen and threatens to chop off your cojones." He scratched his forehead. "I didn't realize you actually quit and left until she relaxed a little. You weren't at your apartment and I had no idea what happened or what to do. I was blaming myself until Sebastian told me, the prick."

"Sebastian told you?" Kurt asked, feeling a little lump in his throat he couldn't swallow away.

"I may have punched out the details," Blaine added dryly.

"Let's just say Sebastian has been locked up in his own restaurant in Columbus since then," Cooper interfered.

"So you could return to La Vedette, if you want to." Blaine looked almost sad about the thought.

"Or you could stay here forever and I will make sure everybody will worship your food –"

"Cooper," Blaine said, slightly annoyed. "Could you please be obnoxious somewhere else, you're kind of ruining my date here." Kurt's heart did a little swoop at the mention of date.

Cooper frowned for a second before realizing what he was really doing. "Oh! Yes of course, sorry Squirt." Blaine hissed at the nickname. "I'll go check where your food is and probably get stabbed because I lost Tina's sous again. You two go do date-y stuff." And with that he finally left.

"So," Kurt said, "what happened to Cannareccione?"

Blaine shrugged. "Wes can handle it. I only agreed on the job because I knew it was close to you, but… without you it didn't make much sense to stay."

"Why didn't you come earlier?" he asked a bit hurt and Blaine started to apologize right away, leaving his hands open on the table so easy for Kurt to grab, but restrained himself from doing so.

"Cooper kept it a secret you were working for him, he only told me yesterday because he figured you had enough space. I told him everything, about us, I hope you don't mind. It's just – he's my brother. My rock."

"I told everything to my dad," Kurt confessed. "He told me it was clear I was in love." Hearing Blaine's sharp intake of breath made Kurt realize what he just said and his eyes shot wide open.

"A-and," Blaine said carefully, "are you?"

He didn't answer. Instead he slid his hand into Blaine's open one and squeezed it gently.

"Okay." Blaine nodded, allowing Kurt to keep it quiet for just a little longer. "So, are you returning to La Vedette? They would take you back in a heartbeat."

"Quinn can handle it," Kurt said, mimicking Blaine's answer.

"Then what do you want?"

 _To kiss you. To love you. But mostly just you_ , he thought but didn't say.

"I'm not sure yet." Kurt felt Blaine stroke his thumb over his hand and the soothing gesture warmed Kurt's heart. "I'm not planning on staying here. Cooper's offer came in strangely welcome and now I realize quite planned."

"I had nothing to do with that."

"I know."

"But I'm glad he did though."

"Me too."

They shared a smile, and Kurt realized he wanted to smile with Blaine always and forever.

"What would you like to do next?" Blaine asked. "If you're not staying here which will be mourned by my brother."

"Maybe travel a little." Kurt had been thinking about traveling a lot lately, get inspiration for new ambitions.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" They released each other's hands as their food arrived, served by Cooper who was excessively winking at the both of them.

"Hm, sorry what did you ask?" Kurt inspected their food for perfection and forgot about the question Blaine asked.

"N-nothing."

"Liar."

"Kurt," Blaine said a bit louder and he looked up from the plates to focus on Blaine. "Did you seriously quit your job because of me?"

"Not because of you –"

"But for me," Blaine quickly said, his eyes sad and filled with emotion. "You left to save me." Kurt looked down at his hands and saw his fingers were shaking. "You could have just come to me."

"I couldn't, Blaine, I needed the space. As you can recall it had been a hectic day." Kurt's lower lip started to quiver and suddenly a hand appeared on his cheek, forcing him to look up. Blaine was leaning all the way over the table in an uncomfortable looking way but he managed somehow.

"I just need to know why you did it. So I'm not making it up anymore. That I'm not making up that you cared for me so much that I was above your true passion." His voice was low and thick, with heavy breaths between words. Kurt covered Blaine's hand on his cheek with his own hand, lowering it before tightly grabbing his wrist.

"I love you."

Blaine's entire face seemed to open up in surprise – eyebrows rising and lips parting and Kurt didn't hesitate to straighten up and lean forward to meet his lips in a long awaited kiss.

"I did it for you," Kurt said between kisses. "And me. And us."

"Us?" Blaine gasped.

"Us."

They broke apart, both of them falling back into their places looking bashful and flushed.

"I want to start over." Kurt licked his lips, still tasting the faint flavor of the cream Blaine always tasted like. "A fresh start, for us. We'll start over."

"I want to take you to Italy," Blaine blurted and Kurt froze. "Let me take you to Italy. We'll be alone, together and I'll show you all the places, please – let me take you to Italy."

"I don't even like Italian food."

"That's because you've never had real and good Italian food, it's a process you can learn." Blaine smiled. "I want to take you Italy."

"A-are you sure?"

"Yes! It'll be just us. And well, I've been wanting to see my nonna for a while now and I'm pretty sure I will make her life if I take you with me."

Kurt bit away a smile, reaching for his glass of wine to take a little sip. He stared at Blaine over the ring of his glass, who was just beaming.

"You want to take me to Italy for our second date?" he asked with a hint of a promise in his voice.

Blaine nodded eagerly, smiling from ear to ear before he let it falter a bit.

"And maybe –" He turned shy. "I can introduce you to my nonna as my boyfriend? As my  _il vero amore_?"

"Depends," Kurt said, feeling sorry for the way he made Blaine's face fall. "Are we going to Paris as well? Since we're already in Europe."

Blaine knocked over an empty glass while surging over the table to demand another kiss.

"Tuscany, Paris, Rome, Amsterdam, Stockholm – I'll take you  _anywhere_ , tesoro."

"And I'll take you everywhere with me, mon cher."

"I love you."

"I love you."

" _Ti amo._ "

" _Je t'aime_."

**xXx**

_The End. Fin. Fine._

* * *

**Epilogue – Seven months later**

* * *

**That's Amoure – *******  
 _Culinary Review 'Amoure' (New York City, NY, West 46_ _th_ _Street), Frenchtalian_  
Executive Chefs and Managers; Kurt Hummel (28, origin Ohio) and Blaine Anderson (28, origin Ohio)  
by: Andrew Holst

_It seemed merely yesterday that I had the honor of being seated at a small French restaurant where a star was rising – but only to see it disappear so shortly after._

_But it turns out – some stars explode into supernovas and turn even greater upon return. Chef Kurt Hummel reappeared on my radar a small week ago when the new restaurant, close to chef Hummel's old restaurant which is now run by Chef Quinn Fabray, opened named Amoure. I was a bit stand-offish at the odd name and odd menu – but it turned out to be one of the best decisions I have ever made._

_I even had the pleasure of meeting Chef Hummel, as he was both cooking and managing the restaurant that evening. He told me his alleged boyfriend and co-chef Chef Blaine Anderson kicked him out of his kitchen so Chef Anderson could have his turn at running it. Chef Hummel told me he didn't mind and was happy to answer all of my questions._

_He explained the various dishes the couple created on their trip through France and Italy, finding ways to combine several classic recipes into new ones. Of course you can also order the original, but may I advise you, dear reader, to give the Tiramisu Brûlee a fair chance as I am pretty sure this is on heaven's menu._

_After Chef Hummel left me to enjoy my meal, I spotted from the corner of my eye an exchange between the chefs. They were glancing at each other, sneaking in smiles between doors and seemed utterly in love. Which gave me no doubt that the name of the restaurant was perfectly chosen._

* * *

"You two make culinary reviewers sick without even the food," Santana commented after throwing away the magazine for Quinn to read.

Kurt beamed a little, sitting between Quinn and an empty seat belonging to Blaine, who was still in the kitchen. It was his birthday, and he was forbidden to enter the kitchen at any cost. He was that happy his friends, Blaine's old colleagues and even Cooper came to celebrate his 29th birthday at their very own restaurant. The idea came when he and Blaine had had a playful cook off with desserts and ended up eating everything combined.

They had gone through various fights, drama and a lot of making up while building up Amoure but after the opening not two weeks ago – it was all worth it.

"What's on the birthday menu?" Cooper asked, leaning back in the comfortable chairs Kurt picked out.

"I have no idea, Blaine thinks it's fun if I have no clue. As if me not being in control wasn't fun enough," Kurt said with sarcasm flowing in his voice.

"It is fun and you know it." Everybody looked up to see Blaine standing next to Kurt, handsome in his dark red chef's uniform and quickly sitting down the empty seat. "Everything is going to be just fine," he said and kissed Kurt's cheek. "Just let me indulge you and therefore indulge me."

"Well, bring it on because I am hungry," Cooper said.

"You're always hungry." Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Did you make sure –" Kurt started, but was cut off by Blaine saying yes. "And the freezer –"

"Yes."

"But Sally is –"

"Totally capable of everything," Blaine said and silenced him with a kiss. "It's your birthday. Indulge yourself, no work."

"There we go!" Cooper brought them out of their private conversation and clapped his hands loudly as two of Amoure's waiters appeared with trays.

"First course," Amy said with a smile. "Tiramisu."

Kurt started to splutter. "Seriously!" He smacked Blaine's thigh. "Dessert before dinner? You're  _insane_."

"Ow," Blaine said with a pout, rubbing the sore spot on his leg. "I'm not insane, just creative."

"Chef Blaine?" Amy smiled even wider, nodding down the plate she was holding as if it was carrying a secret only they knew.

"Ah yes, I'll give this one to the birthday boy."

"Why, is this one poisoned?" Kurt asked with a smile, staring at Blaine with loving eyes while the plate was placed in front of him. It was the tiny gasp coming from Quinn that made him tear his gaze away from Blaine and down to his illegal dessert before dinner. That's when he realized why she was gasping in the first place.

His plate of tiramisu was much fuller than all the other plates. Around the center where the square of tiramisu was placed were the words spelled out in chocolate sauce:  _Will you marry me?_  and on top of the square laid a single silver ring.

He gaped at it, recognizing Blaine's handwriting and decorating skills everywhere and turned his head to the one who wrote it down.

"Yes," he said before Blaine could even repeat the question. Blaine's response was a mere puff of air escaping his mouth and he reached out to retrieve the slightly with chocolate shaving covered ring from the plate and presented it. It fit perfectly around Kurt's finger and witnessed by all their friends and loved ones – they kissed in their own restaurant as fiancés.


End file.
